Frailty thy Name is Ryan

Grace in Small Things- Summer 2011 Wrap Up

2011-09-06T18:32:00.000-07:00

1. My cousin and our wonderful adventures on Cape Cod, Brooklyn and in the city.

2. The view from the rocking chairs high above Battery Park

3. "You are the cleaning lady of my hair"

4. Stitch Haus

5. "The sun sets everywhere"

Sunshine

2011-03-11T13:49:00.001-08:00

On my shoulder (through my windows) makes me happy.

Yay! To warm weather and the coming of spring!

A Good Day Now

2011-03-10T05:27:00.001-08:00

This morning has me thinking about Tom Paxton.

It's overcast and supposed to rain for much of the day.

I ran out to get coffee and and am now seated high above 83rd St with Chopin playing and a tall glass of grapefruit juice on the table beside my coffee and poppy seed bagel.

It's a nice way to start the day.

Even a gray day.

2011-03-09T20:12:00.001-08:00

Is this thing on?
Is it still working?
Will I keep writing?

Who knows...perhaps, to borrow a phrase from my dear old dad, a bad post is better than no post at all. Works for running. Perhaps I'll just take this post by post.

Two for Two

2010-11-02T09:49:00.000-07:00

There are many posts I'd like to write.

This year, however, my blog is slightly more public.

And though "prudent" isn't a charge usual leveled against me, in this instance I think it's wise to be circumspect.

So inxay on the passive aggressive (though VERY therapeutic) post I wanted to write about those who go around telling everyone how organized they are (though I guess even this sentence is passive aggressive, but seriously, being organized is more than color coded folders and spreadsheets. There's a great deal to be said for flexibility. And that's all I'm going to say about that.)

Double ixnay on the delightful irony that has me attending mass on a nearly daily basis. I've made it to 2 Holy Days of Obligation so far this month. Catholicism for the win!

2 down, 28 more to go.

Here We Go Again

2010-11-01T16:18:00.000-07:00

30 days hath November.

Let's see if I can blog for all of them.

La Voiture

2010-06-14T15:09:00.000-07:00

Though it may come as a surprise to some, I don't actually know everything.
Fortunately, for those few instances when I have a question I can't answer, I know who to contact.

Like today, on my walk home I passed the most ridiculously looking car...

To: The Cantabridigan
From: Ryan O'Brian
Re: ?
Toyota veneia? Some sort of hybrid SUV station wagon

To: Ryan O'Brian
From: The Cantabridgian
Re ?
Venza. Camry wagon on big wheels. Hellish ergonomics.

13 years since I've had to let an automotive related question go unanswered.
A man among men you are my friend. Or, rather, a Cadillac in a sea of Chevys.

For Baby (For Bobby)

2010-04-14T09:03:00.000-07:00

Before the world existed, before it was populated, and before there were wars and jobs and colleges and movies and clothes and opinions and foreign travel—before all of these things there had been only one person [Bobby] and only one place: a tent in the basement made from chairs and bed sheets. [S]he did not consider if or how or why [s]he loved him. He was just love: he was the first evidence of love and he would be the last confirmation of love when everything else fell away.
--Zadie Smith On Beauty

Happy Birthday to my pokey little puppy.
I love you, Sis.

And the Award

2010-03-22T17:59:00.000-07:00

For "Guest who Traveled the Furthest" goes to...

Alexander!

Would that Visa could make a commercial of Saturday night!

Invitations for 75 guests: $XXX

Getting childhood photos of your mother blown up to poster size $XXX

Party for 75 at OGC $XXX

Trans-Atlantic Plane Ticket: $XXX

My mother's face when she saw you there: priceless

Way to go, Alexander. I don't care what anyone says about you, you're a keeper!

BEWARE

2010-03-15T07:32:00.000-07:00

A little Ides of March fun this rainy Monday morning:

From "Rinse the Blood of My Toga"
CALUPURNIA (that's Mrs Julius Caesar to you and me):

I told him, Julie, don't go. Don't go Julie, I said. Don't go, it's the
Ides of March.

If I told him once, I'd told him a thousand times, Julie, don't go ...

Julie, don't go, I said. It's the Ides of March. Beware already.

FLAVIUS MAXIMUS
(aside)
I don't blame him for going.

Crocus!

2010-03-08T08:06:00.000-08:00

All right, so I wasn't exactly wandering lonely as a cloud and crocuses aren't the same sure sign of spring as daffodils, but still! Crocuses! In the front garden! Peaking their little heads out above the snow!

After this winter, I'll take any sign I can get! Roll on spring!

Fritzi Tree

2010-02-01T07:04:00.000-08:00

This post is a poll of sorts.

When is it time to take down your Christmas tree or shrub, whatever the case may be?

We put up our tree/shrub/potted plant in mid-December and named him Fritzi. All through Christmas we'd sing to him "O Fritzi Tree." We decorated him with lights and mini candy canes.

After Christmas we began eating the candy canes.

Now it's February and our little Fritzi Tree is naked save for the lights. He is also growing. He sits in our window, gets light all day and loads of water and is sprouting new growth. Seems a shame to put him out in the trash. He's still alive. He still smells like pine. And I love him.

But, really. February. It's getting ridiculous. Not to mention tacky.

Perhaps I can tell people he's a ficus plant?

It's All Fun and Games

2010-01-03T10:17:00.001-08:00

...until Ryan loses an eye (or a head or a nose).

This was a grand Christmas. One filled with love and laughter and friends and family.

Sadly, it was also filled with grave injury. First, I was nearly decapitated by a Path train. It was as unpleasant as it sounds. I'm sure one day I'll find it funny, not as funny as a certain someone who shall remain nameless but who was supposed to hold the door and keep it from shutting on my head, but still.

Fortunately I was able to make a swift recovery from nearly losing my head. As you can see from the photo below I regained my usual high spirits and was in fine shape for round 2 of Carlton Christmas Piggy Back Ride Races:

We even got a little creative and added a 3rd party to our race:

All fun and games until the post-race victory celebration got a bit out of hand. I turned cartwheels cross the floor and, feeling rather seasick, decided to take a break and engage the nearest 5 year old in a tickle fight. Said 5 year old retaliated by smashing his noggin into my nose.

I suppose it's just not a family holiday until someone has to go to the ER.

In Hoc Signo Vinces

2009-12-26T16:09:00.000-08:00

Turns out, writing papers about French anti-Semetics and "sh*t" is a pretty good way to go.

Our Funny Valentine made dean's list this semester.

Her figure may be less than greek and her mouth a little weak but when she opens it speak, she's certainly smart.

Way to go, Smarty Pants!

Pomp and Circumstance

2009-12-22T05:13:00.000-08:00

A big and hearty congratulations to my favorite professional student, the Cantabrigian.

Way to go on this your 3rd (? I kinda lost track around the end of your first year of law school) post-graduate degree.

Always a gentleman, perhaps no longer a scholar.

Now maybe you'll get a job like the rest of us.

Way to go, Smarty Pants.

Family Tradition

2009-12-15T05:34:00.000-08:00

In the fall of 1970 my grandfather called my father, a senior in college, demanding to know just what he was doing up there and why he was, as Poppy put it, " pissing my money away."

I received a similar phone call from my father in the spring of 2001.

Yesterday, when asked how her term paper is going, my sister, a sophomore in college, responded thusly:

"Uh, I don't know. I am just comparing the two Jean-Claude Grumberg plays we read and then I was going to talk about how the French were actually pretty anti-Semitic and other sh*t"

I believe I can say without fear of successful contradiction that my sister will be on the receiving end of a similar phone call in the not too distant future.

Good to know she's keep the family tradition alive.

Now We Are 60

2009-12-13T03:30:00.000-08:00

Today is my dad's 60th birthday.
If I were more with it and on the ball, I would have set this to post at 3:13 AM, the minute he was born. Frankly, if I were with it and on the I'd have his actual present finished and ready to go. Oh well, it's the thought that counts.

So now, without further ado, 6 things I love about my dad, 1 for each decade of awesomeness.

6) He calls me every year at the exact minute I was born and says the following:

"'Betty Bear was so excited she could hardly sleep. It was her birthday.' Happy Birthday Betty Bear!"

(Betty Bear's Birthday was my favorite book when I was very small. I don't even remember reading it but he still knows the whole thing by heart. )

5) He is at once ridiculously proper and totally irreverent.
He uses phrases like "daily ablutions" and "ladies foundation under garments," he stands when a lady enters a room or leaves the table and always carries an extra hankie.
Then there's the side of him that does things like turn to you in the middle of a family wedding and whisper:

"Your mother and I didn't light a unity candle. We used a Bowie knife and had a ritual blood letting on the altar."

And then, because he's so well mannered, he's able to turn away and watch the rest of the ceremony while you're sitting there biting your tongue, holding your breath and digging your nails into your thighs in a desperate attempt to keep from laughing.

4) He's a triple threat. He can sing, he can dance and he can act. He's amazing. And intimidating. He also knows more about music, dance, theater and film then you do. No. Really. He does.

3) He's got style. Serious style. People stop him on the street. Style, panache and charm. It takes a special kind of guy who can pull off shocking pink trousers with green elephants. My Philadelphia lawyer father is perhaps the only man who can them look dignified and understated.

2) He is the reason we got the Disney Channel as kids. It wasn't so we could watch it, it was because they played the old Zorro and Davy Crockett TV shows at night. He loves Zorro and Davy Crockett.

1) Five years ago, in a conversation that lasted one minute and 37 seconds that he probably doesn't remember and I'll never forget, he gave me the biggest vote of confidence I've ever received. It's his voice I hear now when I have to drown out the voices that say, "you're no good," "you can't do this," "who do you think you're fooling?"

Happy Birthday! I love you!

Snow!

2009-12-05T10:51:00.000-08:00

Okay, I suppose it's technically a "wintery mix," but there are actual flakes in there with the rain.

But still! Snow!

Love it!

A Minor Quibble

2009-12-04T08:10:00.000-08:00

Dear Google Spell Check,
As a reminder, turkeys are done, people are finished.
Please do not ask me if I am "done spell check." I am not done. I am finished.
Thank you,
Ryan

McFlipper

2009-12-03T16:03:00.000-08:00

From Phil:
I just saw my reflection. I look like Billy Crystal playing a younger version of himself in When Harry Met Sally.

You've been making me laugh for nigh on 13 years and remain the only person who always gets all my jokes. A man among men, my friend.

Sha la la la

It Is The Way To Go

2009-12-02T12:05:00.000-08:00

Indiom [in-dee-uhm] –noun (derived from the english word idiom)

a figure of speech or a colloquial term or phrase whose meaning cannot be deduced by the literal translation or arrangement of its words. An indiom can be a reordering of the words that make up recognized idioms; the use of several words to describe an existing word; the misuse of an idiom or word in a way that makes it mean something radically different and/or hilarious. Indioms are typically coined by Indian-born men over the age of 60.

For example, when discussing the death of Jack Kemp this spring, Dr Sharma had this to say,

"Well, he'd had cancer since yesterday."

Mr Brown

2009-12-01T11:45:00.000-08:00

So, last night I was walking home down 5th Ave.
I spied a tall man in blue jeans with long, curly grey hair.
"Who does that guy think he is, Billy Connolly?"
Alas, it was!
Yes!
So, Billy Connolly! Strolled 6 blocks down 5th Ave, he and I.
Nice legs, Billy.
Oh Billy!

30 Days Hath November

2009-11-30T12:27:00.000-08:00

30 Days
30 Posts
That's the news, folks and I am outta here!

It's All Right

2009-11-29T08:16:00.000-08:00

So much easier to come home when your bell rings early Sunday morning with friends bearing gifts- oj, coffee, the paper and a bottle of Moet. Oh, and Sam Cooke on the stereo.

Not bad. Not bad at'all.

---
In other news:
Check out the front pg of the automobile sections. Cadillac station wagon! Be still my beating heart! Before I ever wanted a Mercedes wagon, I wanted a Cadillac.

Perhaps dreams really do come true.

Edited to add:
Once again, my Guy Friday comes through:
If you can wait for it, we could go halvsies on a CTV-S Wagon. You'd get a non-conformist leather lined grocery getter.I'd get a super charged 550 bhp baloney smoker.

A man among men you are, my friend. A man among men.

Home Again Home Again Jiggety Jig

2009-11-28T21:56:00.000-08:00

Grace In Small Things- Homeward Bound Journey:

The indescribable feeling of relief when I throw myself in a cab at the end of a trip and say, "take me home."

And one last thing

2009-11-26T08:07:00.000-08:00

I am thankful for the St Regis who held my bag this afternoon and provided me with the paper so I could kill time this Thanksgiving Day with Mo Dowd (whom I heart, muchly).

2009-11-26T07:51:00.000-08:00

Today I am thankful for my cousins- those who are always willing to host, those who always provide tips for excellent adventures and those who always make me laugh. Especially those who make me laugh.

And aren't I lucky, you all do.

I love you,
Ry/Ralph/Rags/Ryan O'Brian

(And God bless us, everyone)

Day 3

2009-11-25T10:16:00.000-08:00

The note I received from my waiter:

You are beautiful
Alfredo
366-xxx-xx-xx
Call me

Ah, but had he called me ravishing someone would have had a run for his money.

Roma Day 2

2009-11-24T15:55:00.000-08:00

Two days and saying, "when in Rome..." has yet to get old.

Ah, Will Ferrel I love you.

Grace in Small Things

2009-11-23T08:31:00.000-08:00

The lazy traveler edition:

Having wonderful friends whose attention to detail is so exact and whose taste is so similar to your own that all you have to do is ask them for their itinerary et voila your trip is planned.

Makes arriving in a new city two and a half hours of sleep all the better.

So Low

2009-11-22T15:26:00.000-08:00

I rarely use names, but for once I'll make an exception.

At this very moment, Miriam and I are sitting in her living room singing Whitney Houston and Bryan Adams songs. Not at the top our lungs but rather under our breaths. You see, John has gone to bed and we don't want to wake him.

Getting along famously has to be the best way to get along. Don't you agree?

:)

2009-11-21T16:28:00.000-08:00

I felt so happy I almost cried,
And then he kissed me.

Tonight

2009-11-20T06:54:00.000-08:00

Oh moon grow bright
And make this endless day endless night
Tonight!

On second though, endless day might not be a bad idea considering I have 27 million things to do before I ship out tonight.

Tautology of the Year

2009-11-19T13:57:00.000-08:00

"I want a moratorium on death."

Abbott and Costello Plan A Party

2009-11-18T12:41:00.000-08:00

Or maybe it's Laurel and Hardy.
Or Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum.

I can't decide.

My father and I are trying to plan a get together and it's like a real life version of "Who's on First."

Unfortunately, either one of us are especially effective communicators.
Fortunately, both of us find this hysterical.

Wendy Lady

2009-11-17T09:04:00.000-08:00

It’s been nearly 4 years and I’m still not over Wendy Wasserstein’s death.

Strange, I know.

It’s not as though we ever met. We didn’t have a weekly, monthly or, hell, even annual date. It’s not as though October 22 rolls around every year and I think, “oh, Wendy and I would have been doing X today.”

Still, there’s a Wendy sized hole in my life.

I remember reading my first Wendy essay—Shiksa Goddess. I think, though I could be wrong, that the essay was published around the time Jamie Lee Curtis starred in the film version of the Heidi Chronicles. As an aside, I thought that the Heidi Chronicles was the true story of Heidi Fleiss. It’s not.

Anyway, she was just there. For about 13 years. I read her plays and her essays, bought her books. I grew up- graduated from college, moved abroad, fell in love, had my heart broken, fell in love again and had my heart broken (again) moved to New York, got a job, lost a job, got a new job and re-read her plays and essays. She was always there.

And then she wasn’t.

When she died her tributes spoke volumes, especially about her friendships. One woman commented that she was a “new friend,” she’d only known Wendy for 25 years. The quote that came up again and again was:

You can judge the quality of a woman by how long she keeps her friends

Well. I suppose you can. So Wendy died and I reached out to an old friend to whom I hadn’t spoken in years. Our mothers have been friends since the early 60s, we’d been very close and fallen out not with a bang but with a whimper. As chance would have it, she happened to be living at home for a year. So I called and we started talking and it was awkward at first but we got through it. And now she lives in New York and is an actress and we meet for brunch or movies or dinner or coffee or whatever and it occurs to me that we are now doing the sorts of things that Wendy’s characters were doing when I started reading her almost 20 years ago.

So I guess I’m sad because I won’t have Wendy to tell me how the story ends. Guess I’ll have to figure that one out on my own.

Grace in Small Things

2009-11-17T06:49:00.000-08:00

The "My Internet Was Down Yesterday and I Couldn't Post" Edition

1) Postcard waiting for me when I got home last night

2) "Gold Digger" playing in Dunkin' Donuts this morning

3) Looking at the photos from this weekend and falling over laughing at the memories

2009-11-15T19:44:00.000-08:00

It had been, until this weekend, a very long time since:
I've scaled a fence
Had security called to a hotel room at 3am due to noise complaints
Started a quote list because everything we said was just too funny
Lost my voice screaming at a football game

S.E.C. Football and tailgating in GA is pretty amazing.

My friends, however, are even better!

Auburn!

2009-11-14T18:56:00.000-08:00

Go war damn eagles!

Georgia On My Mind 2009

2009-11-13T06:36:00.000-08:00

It's time once again for my annual autumnal journey south of the Mason Dixon.

This time I'm headed to Athens to see Georgia play Auburn.

I don't have a horse in this race, but since my ticket comes to via a War Eagle, I'm rooting for Auburn.

I've been practising my cheers and have my orange and blue all packed and ready to go.

Weagle Weagle War Damn Eagle!

2009-11-12T09:16:00.001-08:00

We have a pretty even distribution of labor in my household.

From each according to her ability, to each according to her need. Or something like that. Except without the bad Soviet hair cuts and drab clothing.

This works well and keeps things moving swiftly along. We each have our own duties and roles suited to our own strengths and weaknesses.

I, for instance, am in charge of removing all manner of insects and creepy crawlies. Also, spraying Raid in the cracks and crevices of our abode.

My roomates, on the other hand, are in charge of dealing with any and all snakes that may enter the apartment (yes, I know I live in New York City but snakes are scary) and any and all ghosts.

I'm not kidding.

Things that go bump in the night? When my over active imagination takes charge and I'm 100% certain that there is a serial killer hiding in our bathtub hidden by the shower curtain? All them.
They also understand my fear of showering when I'm home alone and are perfectly willing to scream, "I'm home! And I'm not going to go all Norman Bates on you!" as they walk in the door.

It's a good thing.

Something New Every Day

2009-11-11T06:18:00.000-08:00

I learned a new word!

I'm so excited!

Skullduggery.

It's a noun meaning: underhanded or unscrupulous behavior; also : a devious device or trick.

Plus it's vaguely onomatopoeic, which I love.

But, very best of all, I learned by watching Mad Men. Score! Don't say TV never taught you nothing.

There Are Worse Things I Could Do

2009-11-10T07:19:00.000-08:00

In Which I Fall Deeper into Cliche
or
I think I need to Punch Myself in the Face.

So, I work in fashion.
The majority of my clothes are black, white or camel.
I own more pairs of black tights than dresses and have a different black dress for every day of the week. And a pair of black flats to match each one.
I live in the West Village and know more gay men than straight.

I want a cat desperately but refuse to get one because, well, I just can't.

Today. Today, though I slipped to a new and dangerously dark low.

I went to Starbucks for coffee. I don't do it all the time but these are the times that try a girl's soul and desperate times call for desperate measures. I wanted the flavor of a latte with nutmeg and cinnamon on top. I needed more of a kick than that. So I, no joke, stepped up to the counter and ordered the following:

"I'd like a medium Americano cafe au lait."

Angels wept.

I had to explain how to make it.

Then, when they didn't do it correctly, I asked them to dump it out and re-make it as I stood at the counter and gave them step by step instructions.

Jesus wept.

I tried to be as nice as possible while telling people how to do their job. I'm properly embarrassed and left a $5 tip.

Still, though, I need to be punched in the face.

Grace In Small Things

2009-11-09T13:08:00.000-08:00

The Laundry Edition

1) Someone left the entire Sunday Times on top of a washer

2) Hearing “Throwing Down” come on the radio and singing along “ashes, ashes all fall down”

3) Getting into bed with clean sheets that smell of Tide and Clorox bleach and starched
pillowcases.

2009-11-08T16:43:00.000-08:00

My grandmother wore Estee Lauder's White Linen perfume.

Her scent was a much a part of her being as her grey hair or throaty laugh.

Several years ago my brother wandered a perfume counter at Marshall Field's in Minneapolis sniffing every bottle until he found what "Nanny smelled like."

I miss Nanny. Every day. More than I can say and more than I thought I would.

Today, as I walked home from bruch, I passed through a cloud of White Linen. My ipod was on and my mind a million miles away, but one whiff and I was recalled to life.

I could hear Nanny as clear as day, "Hi, doll!"

Guess she's still watching me.

Faux-jolais Nouveau

2009-11-07T14:12:00.000-08:00

Tonight we are celebrating the arrival of the 2009 Faux-jolais Nouveau.

It's a holiday I created myself. It's what you celebrate when you have unbreakable plans for the 3rd Wednesday of November.

The usual suspects are due to arrive chez moi any moment. Candles are lit, nibbles are out and wine is chilled. Just on thing, I seem to have forgotten napkins.

D'oh!

Thank goodness my friends are generous souls who always ask to bring something.

That's how I roll folks, I'll invite you over but make you bring your own napkins.

A Mind is A Terrible Thing

2009-11-06T12:54:00.000-08:00

I’ve had Wichita County Line Man running through my head all morning.

Except, well, that’s not really the song I want to be singing.

I want to be singing the song that goes, “if you’re leaving Amarillo…” but I can’t actually remember the words and the tune is similar enough to Wichita County Line Man.

Thus, I’m still on the liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnne.

Edited to Add-
Turns out I've meant to be singing "By the Time I Get to Phoenix" which explains why I was unable to google the lyrics "if you're leaving Amarillo."

27th Heaven

2009-11-05T16:21:00.000-08:00

All I can say is, "thank goodness."

Thank goodness it's over and I can get to sleep at a decent hour!

Oh, and Matsui, #55 in the program, #1 in my heart.

Vite! Vite!

2009-11-04T07:25:00.001-08:00

I ran past the Standard Hotel last night.

What with Jude Law sightings and Gwyneth Paltrow drive bys and its most recent mention in the Style section, the Standard is this year's Gansevoort (as an aside, perhaps one day I'll throw champagne off the roof of this hotel, too!). As such, the paparazzi camp out in front of the entrance.

It's not unusual, I see them all the time. Generally they don't give me the time of day.

Last night must have been a slow night. As I ran past 2 or 3 of the guys started screaming, "Smile, pretty girl!"

Made my night.

Touche

2009-11-03T11:07:00.000-08:00

This year's Halloween costume caused a bit of a stir.

I went as Holly Golightly in her nightgown (ie I wore a man's tuxedo shirt, Holly's sleeping mask and ear plugs). It was pretty cute, if I do say so myself.

Comments at the party ranged from "cute, if chilly" to "Dude, you're not wearing any pants!" to the poor 10 year old boys who came trick or treating and stood on the stoop with their mouths agap.

Still, the very best comment came all the way from London. M, a bit confused about who Holly Golightly actually was, thought she was a singer in a band. Once corrected, M had this to say:

I did find it strange that you would go as a singer from a rock band without her pants, but Ryan nothing surprises me.

Of Mice and Men

2009-11-02T07:16:00.000-08:00

Right.
File this under "best laid plans."
It was a winter's day in New York City.

A Tuesday I think. Perhaps a Wednesday. Mid-week. Grey. Wet. Rough day at the office. You get the idea.

Anyway, I decided it was a pizza kind of night. I went to Arturo's and picked up a large mushroom pie and a 6 pack of Heinekin. Figured I'd bring it home and surprise my roomates with dinner. Got home, opened a beer, put the oven on warm, took a slice for myself and put the rest of the pie in the oven (can you guess where this went sideways?).

Some 10-15 minutes later I smelled smoke. Went into the kitchen and saw flames jumping out the top of the oven. I managed to pull the flaming box out of the oven and got it in the sink. The flames set the paper towel roll and the dish drying rack as well as the wooden spoon on fire.

Fortunately I had a full brita filter of water and was able to put out the fire.
Unfortunately, I lost the pizza.
Fortunately, I still had 5 beers left.

And that, is the story of how I set my apartment on fire.

ABM

2009-11-01T15:01:00.000-08:00

This post is for Halsey who, when I mentioned last night that I would post everyday for November, said, "but you never post!"

Right, I never post except in November!

So Tired

2008-11-16T18:14:00.000-08:00

I got nothing.
Sorry.
More tomorrow, I promise.

saturday afternoon

2008-11-15T17:27:00.000-08:00

There are few things more lovely than a wonderful saturday afternoon at home. It's raining out but we have books and good wine and we aint movin'

Luncheon at Smythson

2008-11-14T10:52:00.001-08:00

Last night after shopping my friend and I went to dinner.

We were talking about the past year-- all the changes and such and how in many ways I'm living an entirely different life than I did last year or even in May.

I said, "Sometimes I look around and think, 'whose life is this?' Feels too nice to be mine."
She replied, "It's yours my darling girl, yours."

I'm Irish. I don't like to tempt fate or anything like that, but I'm quite sure I've never been this happy before. Maybe once, maybe the summer my brother David was 1 and we joined Overbrook. Perhaps the 2 weeks on Cape Cod the summer after my freshman year of college. London after college, of course. Even the summer of 2007 when I bopped around the eastern seaboard. Still, those were more like anomolies.

This. This current life I have. This lovely little life. It's just too much for words. This sort of sustained happiness and contement. It's just delightful.

And I am grateful for it each and every day. I really am.

I hope that counts for something.

I Can Get It For You Wholesale

2008-11-13T18:13:00.000-08:00

I love a bargain. Not gonna lie. One of the best parts of my job is my discount. One of the other best parts of my job is the discounts I get at other places. And today was one of the sweetest. $88 for a dress originally $278.

Whooppee!

Today's Bright Spot

2008-11-12T11:13:00.001-08:00

This made my day--

I leave for London Nov. 25th. taking the 6.10pm Virgin flight out of JFK
Turns out my squash buddy is on the same flight.

Woo hoo!

Remembrance

2008-11-11T07:07:00.000-08:00

In 53 minutes it will be the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month of the year.

In the US, it doesn't mean much. Just another minute in another day. In the UK, it's different. Businesses stop and the country is quiet for 60 seconds as Britons take a moment to remember the fallen soldiers.

It's powerful. In the weeks leading up to today paper poppies pop up on lapels around nation-- a throw back to the days when wounded Great War veterans sold actual poppies in the Tube. It's startling, a stark reminder of those who've given their lives for their country.

I spent September 11, 2002 preparing to move to London. I was shocked that day, and have been shocked in years since, by the lack of co-ordinated commemoration in the US. We're a hot mess-- all over the place with moments of silence here and totally forgetting to do anything there. It's as though we don't care. You know the knock knock joke:

Knock knock
who's there?
September 11
September 11 who?
You said you'd never forget!

I'm not much of a "dulce et decorum est pro patria mori" kinda girl, my sentiments run more towards the "what if they gave a war and no one came"? Perhaps it's my Philadelphia upbringing and the Quaker influence, perhaps it's the fact that I grew up with Boomer parents who protested Vietnam, opposed Desert Storm and that I was against both of our current wars. Perhaps it's just who I am.

Still, I can't get over the solemnity and magnitude of an entire country stopping for 1 minute to honor the dead. The gravitas I felt cannot be over stated. A public acknowledgement of a shared trauma. It's important.

Monday FUNday

2008-11-10T18:07:00.000-08:00

So, it's that time again.
Another day, another $0.30 per word.

This time it's product descriptions.
I haven't decided if I am more or less intimidated by them than I was by the bios.

Time will tell, I suppose.

For now it is I, my dinosaur of a computer and my living room couch.
And the blank screen.

Wish me luck!

Sunday evening

2008-11-09T16:43:00.000-08:00

The party last night was a success!

I love how easy it is to throw these things together. A cocktail, some munchies, turn off the lights, light some candles and put some music on. Et voila! Un Fete!

Now I'm crapped out on the couch listening to Christmas music (what? My mother starts the Christmas music in October) and enjoying the last few hours of the weekend.

we're having a party!

2008-11-08T18:21:00.000-08:00

Nibbles are out and we're setting up the bar, it's a Saturday night in the city!

Come on over!

Mo Dowd Makes Me Cry

2008-11-07T09:14:00.000-08:00

Mo Dowd did it again.

I'm sitting at my desk weeping.
And praying my boss doesn't walk into my office!

I don't always agree with her, but when I do, it's spot on. And this week, we're spot on.

Oh this week. This emotion filled, exciting week.

We've been joking that now we won't have to say we're Canadian when we travel abroad.

It's so much more than that, though.

The presumptive president-elect (it's not officical til the electoral college says it's so) may stumble. He may not be able to do what we hope.

But, today, we have hope.

And that's a lot.

A Pinch or a Dash

2008-11-06T15:06:00.000-08:00

I was asked to participate in an email recipe swap. I immediately began running through my mental recipe index. My tomato sauce? Cauliflower gratin? Sauted green beans? White bean soup? Oh the possibilities seemed endless!

Except for one thing:I don't actually have recipes. I have...ideas. I use enough butter, some basil, slightly too much mozzarella. You get the idea. I can cook, I just can't tell you how to do it.

Which make participatin in a recipe swap difficult.

Oy vey!

We Did It!

2008-11-05T08:47:00.000-08:00

I spent last night in Rockefeller Center.
I am too tired today to write anything substantial.

But we did it! And it feels great!

Today

2008-11-04T09:56:00.000-08:00

Expectant waiting.
That's what I'm feeling today.

I voted before work after standing in a line that stretched out the door and around the block.
People were laughing and smiling.

I wanted to say, "don't laugh! don't smile! don't tempt fate!"

'Cause it ain't over til it's over.

The Morning After

2008-11-03T08:02:00.000-08:00

I'd forgotten, or perhaps blocked out, the abject fear that comes from submitting something you've created.

This blog doesn't count. It's nicely anonymous-- I have no idea if anyone reads it aside from a few friends. Friends, it must be said, who have already told me I write well. This is for fun, shits and giggles as it were. There's no one judging this and nothing happens if I don't write for months on end.

Last night, after I'd emailed the essays off to the editor, I fell into a deep panic.

Was it crap?
It was, wasn't it?
Total crap!
Pilfered crap at that-- not even original crap!
I combined 3 previous essays to make that one!
Oh, God!

etc. etc.

And then this morning, a note back from the editor using words like "a marvel" and "thank you so much" and "good job."

And I think, so what if it wasn't prize winning material. I completed the task. Did the job.
It's not, I suppose, about hitting it out of the park each time. Sometimes it's enough just to get on base.

Or, failing that, at least not striking out!

On Deadlines

2008-11-02T14:35:00.000-08:00

In college I had a professor who said he assigned term papers to give his students a chance to do their laundry.

That's the thing about deadlines, when you have one you'll do whatever you can to avoid it.

Sadly, my laundry is done. My kitchen is clean and my baseboards shining. There's nothing to do but write the flippin' things.

That's why I'm blogging.

500 words. It's not so many, not so long. This isn't a thesis or even a term paper. I'm 10% done-- I have 50 words written and yet I'm paralyzed.

I haven't had a writing deadline since the spring of 2002. I'm out of practice. I can't churn things out any more. Still, a journey of 1000 miles start with one step, an essay of 500 words with a sentence.

I have to keep my eye on the prize-- the way it will feel when it's all done!

Update: It's 7pm, well, 5 past. I have 138 words. 362 left to go. Say a prayer, gang. Say a prayer.

Update, 2: 4 minutes before 8 and I have 250 words. I'll get to 400 easy, 500 may be a stretch. If I can get it out by 10, I'll be happy. Dear Lord, how do people do this for a living? I'd go barmy.

Update, 2.5: 8:28, 300 words. Yee haw!

Walking Girl

2008-11-01T18:13:00.000-07:00

Well the frost is on the pumpkin and hay is in the barn.

Or, rather, the homeless guy is burning trash and the radiators on.

I guess James Taylor lyrics don’t really transfer from the Berkshires to Manhattan. Le sigh.

Indecision 2008

2008-10-23T07:56:00.000-07:00

HELP!

I've been afflicted with a terrible disorder.

It's interfering with my life.
Robbing me of my sleep.
Doing away with my appetite.
Making me question my sanity.

I'm watching the prices fall on airfares. $539 return to London. It's fallen $15 dollars since Monday and $49 since Friday.
I'm obsessed with it and have put off buying a ticket.
I'm like Ebenezer Scrouge here.
Ebenezer Scrouge and Hamlet, a combination of the two. A Victorian miser and a Danish prince who may or may not have been insane but certainly couldn't make up his mind.

This is no good my friends. No good.

Do I bite the bullet and just buy the darn ticket, falling prices be damned?
Do I fly into Gatwick or Heathrow?Do I leave bright and early Monday morning (as is my custom) or do I take an afternoon/evening flight and give myself another day?

Please, give me insight oh wise ones. Or just, you know, make the decision for me!

Immature

2008-10-09T06:24:00.000-07:00

Several years ago, round about my (first) junior year of college I had the strangest dream. I dreamt that all the families for whom I baby-sat got together and gave me a child. They presented it to me, faces beaming, saying, “we know how much you love children, and how upset you are that you can’t get pregnant. We decided to give you a baby.”

I remember the feeling of panic, of thinking, “yes, of course this is what I want, but not now. Now is not the time.”Of course, what I said was, “I can’t have a baby now! I get drunk on a regular basis!”

Clearly articulates my position, no?

There seems to be a bit of a baby boom happening. The Clinton D. Kemps, The Devin L. Burgesses and, of course, The Mary-Knight T. B. Youngs (Mr. David B. Young), are all pregnant.

Babies, they’re on my mind.

Last night, I walked home from the gym. At the grocery store I realized I didn’t have my keys with me. Oh, and my roommates weren’t home. So, I did what any normal person does in such a situation:I entered my apt building through the restaurant downstairs.I went to my downstairs neighbor’s apt and climbed out her window and up the fire escape. Yes, that’s right, I climbed into my apt through the fire escape.

I CAN’T HAVE A BABY NOW! I CLIMB UP FIRE ESCAPES INSTEAD OF USING THE FRONT DOOR!

going mobile

2008-10-03T17:53:00.000-07:00

Blogging from my blackberry! Will wonders never cease? Will this prompt me to post with greater regularity? Stay tuned...

8,760 Little Hours

2008-09-25T09:57:00.000-07:00

A film came out a while back, I’m not sure how long ago, entitled Things We Lost in the Fire.
I never saw it, I think I may have seen a preview, but I’m not sure.
In any case, I have the impression the film is about more than the material goods that burned.
It deals with the “everything now is different” experience. Life was X it is now Y and it is Y because of Z; the fire in this case being Z and providing a line of demarcation between X and Y.

I am, given my general personality, inclined to view lines of demarcation in a negative way. Before I got sick. After my grandmother died. After I crashed my car. Rarely do I highlight the positive changes. After I moved to London. After I redid my apartment.

This summer was, of course, filled with change. For that matter, so has this year. It’s puerile, I think, to mark this change as “new job” or “family death.” It doesn’t capture exactly how different my life feels in now from before, the exciting and (mostly) positive ways in which it is different. Today though, I think I stumbled upon it.

It’s Thursday. The Thursday before pay day. I asked my assistant if she was going out for lunch and rolled her eyes and said, “nope, brought.” Then it dawned on me. Of COURSE she brought her lunch. Tomorrow’s payday who has lunch money today?

So that’s it. I’m now living AFTER I stopped worrying about having enough money to buy lunch.

This feels good.

Extemporanious

2008-09-24T08:45:00.000-07:00

In 4th grade my mother gave me a book of poetry by Judith Voirst (she of Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day fame). If I Were in Charge of the World was the title and my mother inscribed it with the message, "Don't you wish you were!"

What can I say? I like to hear myself talk. I also like to tell people what to do. That I am the eldest daughter of 4 children is not unrelated. But, I digress.

I especially like to hold court as it were (ed., perhaps that's why I have a blog). Give me a drink or two and well, my usually loose lips come unhinged.

Fortunately for me, my roommate adores these ramblings and calls them my “Dr. Seuss’s Guides.” As in “Doctor Seuss’s Guide to Having an Affair and Managing a Business,” the title of one of my more recent monologues (ed., I am neither having an affair nor running a business). I make pronouncements, give advice and make commentary on a variety of subjects. Monday’s subject was, predictably, relationships. The details of these lectures are always fuzzy for me, but apparently the phrase “corn-fed thighs” came up, several times.

Corn fed thighs. Just the phrase makes me laugh.

Tune in Tokyo

2008-08-05T13:27:00.000-07:00

Hi hi hi!
How are you?
Sorry for the radio silence.

Things have been....I don't know, nutty? I hate to use work as an excuse because, really, do you want to know how much time I spend goofing off? So, yes, while I am working harder and longer and more diligently in my new position, I still have plenty of time to write goofy emails.

I'm kinda pre-occupied. Still trying to find my place during a time of upheaval. Whereas I spent last summer jetting off each weekend to the beach and loving every minute of it, this summer I'm just trying to get through it. Not in a bad way, really, but more in a, "if I put my head down can I just wake up at Thanksgiving?" kind of way. There's still so much left to learn, so much about which I am unsure, I just want this part of the job over and done.

Make sense?

Soon enough,though, it will be fall and I'll have 3 months under my belt. Don't know why that sticks in my head, it's just, well, 90 days is long enough to not be the newbie.

It's more than the job, though. I feel like I spent the past year or so preparing for a big change. I don't know what it is, but I feel something coming. Not in a scary way, in a good way. Like I'm being carried along by the tide and I'm not exactly sure where I'm going but I know it's somewhere good. At the same time, however, I'm in a stream of moving water so it's, you know, a good idea to be braced for things like rocks and driftwood and the occasional beer bottle.

Bye Bye Birdie

2008-06-13T07:55:00.000-07:00

All morning I've had "One Last Kiss" running through my head.

It's been a week of "lasts." That bittersweet time in which one takes a moment to look around and say, "hey, this has been my life for the past 2.5 years and now it's over."

This is a good thing. I worked very hard to bring about this change and I'm excited for the future. But still, it's never fun to say good bye.

--
Apologies for the melancholy tone. I promise that I'll be back in top form soon. I'll regale you all (all 3 of you) with witty tales after the weekend.

Cent

2008-06-11T08:42:00.000-07:00

For Nina, because she speaks for the tress that have no tongues.

This is my 100th post. I feel unprepared. Would that I had a special post waiting to go. Alas and alack, I do not. Instead, I'll have to make do with this snippet:

Me: Ah, summer dinner parties, they'll be the death of me.
Him: You gotta die of something. May as well be summer dinner parties.

Hot Fun in the Summertime

2008-06-10T07:07:00.000-07:00

It's too darn hot.
And last night I was too darn stupid.

It's easy to forget, when you live in a walking city, that much of your daily activity is actually exercise. It doesn't feel like exercise, it feels like going to work or the grocery store. It is indeed exercise, especially when the temperature is 95 degrees.

Which brings me to last night.

I left the office at the normal time and had a leisurely walk home-- popped into a few shops along the way and chatted with friends. When I reached the park, I called my mom and chatted with her for a while. As we talked, I walked the perimeter of the park. 3 times. Or, roughly, 1.5 miles.

So, to recap, between walking home and walking around the park, I logged roughly 3 miles in 95 degree heat. Except! It didn't feel like exercise! And since it didn't feel like exercise and I wasn't thirsty, I didn't drink any water when I got home.

Then, because I am a gluten for punishment, I decided to go for a run. A nice 2.5 mile stretch of the legs along the Hudson River. Sounds great, right? Yeah, it was great until about 1.5 miles into it when I realized, quite dramatically, that I had not drunk enough water.

My right leg cramped up and down I went. Slapt on concrete sidewalk of the West Side Highway, right in front of the delightfully good-looking gentleman running behind me.

Because of course, if you're going to fall down in fit of dehydration and muscle cramps, you want to make sure you do it in front of the most handsome man around. It's just common sense. Or a complete lack there of.

Oy vey.

Have I Told You Lately That I Love You?

2008-06-09T07:01:00.000-07:00

Mo Dowd. I heart you. Muchly.

I still have the articles I cut out of the New York Times during the whole Monica Lewinsky affair. I have the piece you wrote about your mother after her death. It contained one of the greatest pieces of advice ever. When I'm feeling sad or scared, I buy something red and wear it as my badge of courage. This has worked far better than anything else I've tried.

And so, thank you once again. Thank you for writing, in the paper of record, just what I needed to hear:

"She didn’t lose because she was a woman. She didn’t lose because America isn’t ready for a woman as president. She lost because of her own — and her husband’s and Mark Penn’s — fatal missteps."

Really Saying Something

2008-06-05T06:43:00.000-07:00

I am going to say something nice about Hilary Clinton.

And I am going to mean it.

There is something to be said for being the first. By virtue of being the first she has made it easier for all those who come later.

And that’s really saying something (ooo wada wada)

Hand on the Telephone

2008-06-04T06:38:00.000-07:00

My cable is out. This, in and of itself, is not an unusual occurrence. Time Warner is my cable service provider and I’m not afraid to say it out loud (or in print), but they suck the big wazoo.
The events of yesterday evening were, however, decidedly unusual. And I, history freak that I am, was without cable. Time Warner had rendered me impotent, and, just like Cher, I hate that.
What to do? What to do?
No cable. How would I know what Lady Macbeth, err, the senator from New York, was saying?
Aha!
Picked up the telephone and dialed the 10 digits.
The gentleman in Cambridge, my Guy Friday.
“Hey, it’s me. Cables out, are you watching?”
“Of course”
“Well, what’s happening?”
And that, my friend, is how I spent the evening.
I listened to Obama claim victory as the presumptive democratic candidate over the telephone.
One phone in Cambridge placed next to the television, me in my own little bed in Greenwich Village.
The wonders of modern technology married to the wonders of the democratic process

Thunderstorms in January

2008-01-11T10:21:00.001-08:00

I'm at home today.
I went to work yesterday, but turns out that 1 death in the family + 1 v. strained relationship with 1 v. disturbed family member= up all night long.
Oh, and hives to boot!

I love how I react physically to any and all stress in my life. Makes things so....interesting.

Anyway, I'm at home. Checking emails and the like (I'm available, just not at the office. Semantics, folks).
And there's a full on THUNDER AND LIGHTENING STORM. Right outside my window.

This is AWESOME.

----
PS- If anyone feels like giving advice, I need help on being the bigger person. I'm not particularly good at it. How to deal with a toxic personality and his wife for 5 days? Without losing the plot. Actual concrete suggestions. Current favorite: address the situation head on, that is, walk up, shake hands, give my condolences and they stay as far away as possible for the remainder of the trip.

Nanny Pat

2008-01-09T20:06:00.000-08:00

Today's phone call-

"Hey, Ma? You know how you said you'd buy me a new black suit for the funeral?"

"Yeah..."

"Well, don't you think Nanny would like it better if I wore my old black suit but came to her funeral with blonde hair?"

*laughs*

"Okay, make an appointment and get your roots done."

--
My grandmother died Tuesday morning. I'd just spent a wonderful week with her in CA. I said everything I needed to say-- she knew I loved her and I know she loved me.

We should all be so lucky.

Culture Shock

2008-01-03T11:42:00.000-08:00

When I left LA yesterday morning it was 72 degrees.
Temperature in NYC upon arrival, 27 degrees.
Somehow it felt colder.
When I got home I checked the weather. Turns out while the temperature was 27, with windchill it was 4.
Oh goody.

It's a good thing I LOVE New York.

Out here having fun

2007-12-30T18:43:00.000-08:00

In that old California sun.

72 degrees folks. I sat by the pool and read my book. Later I went to the market. In flip flops.

It's a sun shiny day.

Got Jul

2007-12-24T20:37:00.000-08:00

We've reached that wonderful point in the holidays where it seems as though it's always been Christmas and always will. Time has no meaning and one day rolls into the next in a haze of chocolate and cookies and egg nog.

It's the most wonderful way to spend Christmas. I picked up a few last minute presents today. I stopped by a few friends houses to say hello and wish them Merry Merry.

"I know it's incredibly rude to just show up unannounced, but it's Christmas and I couldn't let it go by without saying hello."

What can I say? We're Yankees. We don't stop by unannounced. At Christmas, though, it's okay.

We ate lasagna for dinner while watching It's A Wonderful Life. I was good this year. I didn't start to cry until Mary said, "George Baily I'll love you til the day I die."

I cry at everything.

Then it was off to the Christmas Eve celebrations. And oh! Did we celebrate.

Tomorrow it's presents and mass and then off to CA for vacation.

Merry Christmas. And God bless us, everyone.

Congratulations

2007-12-14T11:09:00.001-08:00

Oh! Wow! I did it!
Made it to Friday, that is.

Truthfully, I didn't think I'd make it.
Wednesday was so bad, I thought Thursday would have to be better.
Nope! I was wrong. Thursday was worse.

I even threw a temper tantrum.
At work!
Over the capitalization of the seasons!

"Well, you could capitalize it, but it would be WRONG. If you don't have a problem with sending it out WRONG, then fine by me."

Then I sent an email with links to 4 different grammar/style websites PROVING to them that I was right. And then, I copied out the text from the Chicago Manual of Style, just in case they needed more proof.

And then, after all that, I went around to each person's desk and apologized for my behavior.

I could use a little grace, folks.

Merry Merry

2007-12-05T08:58:00.000-08:00

My goodness but I am in love with New York right now. I know it's tiresome to go on and on about it. Who wants to hear "everything is so wonderful, I live in the best place ever"? Certainly not I. Much like when people go on and on about how wonderful their friends are. No really. Theirs are the best. No one else ever had a group of friends so wonderful and no one else could possibly understand how great it feels to have these friends. (My but that was a bitter digression, I'm happy you have friends. They're nice things to have. Got some myself. Really like 'em, too.)

But still. Christmas in New York is lovely.

Last night was the annual tree lighting in Washington Square. Leave Rockefeller Center and the madness of mid-town to the tourists and b&t crowed, for me there is nothing like my neighborhood tree. Right under the arch, at the bottom of 5th Ave.
A band plays and people from the neighborhood gather to sing Christmas carols. I stopped by for a bit on my way home from work. Got in a few bits of Adeste Fidelis and left as they started in on Rudolf. Ah. Life is good!

Merry Christmas!

2007-12-04T09:45:00.000-08:00

When I was in college there was an ad for Tide or some other laundry soap. A shapely and comely lass walks into a laundry mat and proceeds to strip down to her skanties and then some eventuallly holding onto a modicum of dignity by way of a strategically placed New York Times.

After this commercial aired, several of the gentlemen living in my dorm made a habit of haning out in the laundry room. Hopping against hope, I suppose, they'd catch a glimpse. Or something.

Anyway, this died out after a couple of weeks. Reality v. television, or so I thought.

Fast forward to last night. My black trousers were in dire need of cleaning. Really, it was getting gross. My general laziness combined with my rather busy schedule left little time to get to the cleaners. Even if they are directly accross the street from my apt. I can't explain what came over or why it seemed like a good idea, but I walked straight home last night and, instead of crossing into my apt building, I strode into the cleaners and- TOOK OFF MY PANTS. Yes. I took my pants off, handed them to the girl behind the counter, picked up my ticket (no ticky, no panty). I wrapped my coat around myself and walked accross the street, up the stairs and into my apt.

What the hell is the matter with me?

One of Eight Million

2007-12-03T09:09:00.000-08:00

Living in New York is like being in an abusive realtionship. One moment you're bruised and battered and the next, well, you're sitting in New York's lap and he's stroking your hair, whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

A weekend like the one just passed leaves me wondering how I could ever leave this city. The first snow, the over-whelming kindness of strangers, the convenience, the wonderful off-beat nature of life on this isle, it just leaves me feeling like the luckiest girl in the world.

What can I say? I love New York.

Phoning it In

2007-11-30T09:32:00.001-08:00

I had grand plans for posting today. Best intentions, what?
I even emailed myself a list of potential topics. AHAHAHA!
Here it is, The List. Stay tuned folks, I could say something brilliant at any moment:

Trumpetor in Washington Square
Man in desert truck
Little leg and Tim Gunn

Thank you, thank you, thank you, and good night.

No Coke, Pepsi

2007-11-29T06:44:00.001-08:00

I am in an abusive relationship with the coffee shop down the street.

In theory, the shop is perfectly suited to me. It serves breakfast, lunch and late afternoon snacks each day from 8-5. Check. It's conveniently located and a quick run for a coke takes roughly 10 minutes (includeing elevator time). Check. Check.

But OH. MY. GOD. The service! The incompetence! The ANNOYANCE!

This morning I wanted a bagel. Actually, I still want a bagel. Everything. Toasted with butter. Light on the butter. No need to overdo it on the butter.

I ordered my bagel, watched it toast and then watched as the guys behind the counter let it sit, and get cold, for 3 minutes. I timed them. Argh. I asked for a new, hot bagel. They offered me one that had been toasted only 2 minutes ago.

Then I left. Annoyed beyond belief and with very low blood sugar.

And the worst part is, I'll go back. I always do.

Delete! Delete! Delete!

2007-11-28T07:32:00.001-08:00

There's this great scene in the film, A Guide for the Married Man.
Fellow 1 is talking to Fellow 2 and instructing him on how to have an affair without being caught. It basically comes down to this:
Deny! Deny! Deny!

I'm taking it as my new guide for blogging: delete! delete! delete!

That said, I typed up a nice one this morning. C'est la vie.

Home

2007-11-27T08:40:00.000-08:00

Today I am thankful for the way I feel when I throw myself in the back of taxi after a long and emotionally exhausting trip.

Home. That's how I feel.

True True

2007-11-25T08:14:00.000-08:00

In grammar school we had, in addition to our spelling sentences and vocabulary lessons, the "daily edit." Our teacher would write a sentence on the board and it was our job to make it grammatically correct.

I remember this sentence clearly:

We's thankFul Four a for day WeekENd.

Which translated to:

We are thankful for a four day weekend.

Yes, ma'am we are.

Never Going Back to My Old School

2007-11-24T08:59:00.000-08:00

There's this great interview footage of Janis Joplin. She's dressed in her full regalia-- feathers, beads, bourbon. Anyway, the interviewer says, "well did you attend your senior prom?" Janis responds in the negative, and when pressed, offers up this explaination, "Well, I guess they just didn't like me very much."

Well, I went to my prom. Both of them. But get this:

I didn't get invited to my high school reunion.

How crazy is that? Okay, I've barely been in touch with any one since graduation. Still, my parents have been at the same address since 1979. It was pretty funny when I walked into a family friend yesterday and she said, "So are you going to the reunion?" Uh....

In all honesty, I can't say I'm broken hearted over this. I really think it's funny.

Who doesn't get invited to their own reunion?

I guess they just didn't like me very much.

____

ED: Turns out an invitation arrived and my mother threw it away. I have no idea why...

My Little Town

2007-11-23T15:01:00.000-08:00

There's something very nice about coming home for the holidays.

You get to see everyone, catchup on all the gossip. Generally have a good time.

Even better is that you get to leave, and go back to your real life.

And for this I am grateful.

Thanksgiving Feast

2007-11-22T18:55:00.000-08:00

Good food
Good meat
Good God
Let's Eat!

Crash Test Dummies

2007-11-21T19:06:00.000-08:00

Live blogging from Stuy Town as I help Collie and Co. prepare Southern Thanksgiving.
Thus far I've made banana pudding, corn bread, corn bread dressing and breakfast casserole.

Why, pray tell, is the Yankee making the Southern specialties?

Who cares? Collie makes Kaluha and coffee while I cook, so I'm a happy happy Yankee. Even if I don't have the manners God gave a goat.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Stuffing

2007-11-20T06:51:00.000-08:00

Last night I made my first attempt at stuffing. Or dressing, really. Seeing as how I didn't stuff it into anything except my mouth.

It was...not bad. Though, how can bread, sausage, butter, onions, celery and spices be bad? Still, my technique could use some improvement and I win no points for execution. So you know what they say, if at first you don't succeed, perseverate. Or, in my case, try it again the next night.

So, tonight I try it again. This time sans sausage. Perhaps even sans culottes!

To Whom It May Concern

2007-11-19T10:21:00.000-08:00

I would like to go home.

My head hurts, my neck aches, I'm sleepy.

I would really like to be on the couch with a cup of tea. If I leave now I'll be home and in my pj's in time for As Time Goes By on BBC America.

Thank you.