Photo Per Day #4: Keuka Christmas

Spent the night last night at my girlfriend's house on Keuka Lake. We sat in the hot tub for hours and drank a lot of wine. We thought we might go swimming (in December!?) but we all chickened out when we got down to the dock.

Mary's front deck is covered with white Christmas lights . . .















But her tree is not yet adorned.

'Twas very, very peaceful this morning.

Let's Groove

I went to dinner at Bistro 135 with my girlfriends from Saatchi last night
LET THIS GROOVE, GET YOU TO MOVE
Such a great little restaurant
IT'S ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT
Beautiful outdoor patio that feels like it came straight out of the Upper East Side
LET THIS GROOVE, SET IN YOUR SHOES
Delicious food: calamari, spicy chicken sliders, black bean hummus, squash ravioli
STAND UP, ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT
$5 martinis (I had a grape cosmopolitan)
GONNA TELL YOU WHAT YOU CAN DO
Usually with a good jazz band playing on the stage upstairs
WITH MY LOVE, ALRIGHT
Last night we were regaled by a loud disco band
LET YOU KNOW GIRL YOU'RE LOOKING GOOD
What?
YOU'RE OUT OF SIGHT, ALRIGHT
I need my miracle ear, what?
JUST MOVE YOURSELF AND GLIDE LIKE A 747
But we still managed to have heaps of fun
AND LOSE YOURSELF IN THE SKY AMONG THE CLOUDS IN THE HEAVENS
And dance our way, through the dance floor, out of the bar
LET THIS GROOVE, LIGHT UP YOUR FUSE, IT'S ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT
Into the quiet night

Five Finger Fourth Fun

What a fabulous, wonderful, sunny, awesome weekend spent first with my sis and her hubby on Seneca Lake (thank you!) and next at my girlfriend Mary's house on Keuka Lake. So. Much. Stinkin. Fun.

Tubing. Swimming. Hot tub-ing. Laughing. Over $3K worth of fireworks!

Dinner at the Switz. Clam bake and pig roast the next day. (Did you know that pigs come with their eyes still in their sockets? Did you also know that the eyes don't pop right out -- they require serious hacking, cutting, sawing, pulling? Did you know that my girlfriends puke easily? And they don't like eyeballs thrown at them? I learned a lot this weekend.)

I love, love, love my friends. They're hilarious, wild, smart, crazy, beautiful, genuine and kind. And so are their kids.

Rumor has it that I missed even more fun on the last night as my kids joined us earlier that day and I was worried (rightly so) that it would get out of control so we left at nightfall. Dodged a bullet. Good for them. Sad for me! I began to see it coming when Son #1 saw my girlfriend Anne’s cigarettes and asked her (in a sincerely shocked voice), “You SMOKE?” and she responded, “No! They’re your mom’s.” Thankfully he's quick enough to know when someone is messing with him.

Instead, we celebrated the Fourth with a neighborhood firepit and rum cocktails that I made and the neighbors dubbed the Five Finger Death Punch. We walked over to the soccer field to watch the fireworks from all the surrounding towns and country clubs. The kids then roughed it in a tent in our yard with their iPods.

I want this summer to last forever.

Mystery Solved

I ran into a friend a week or two ago who I had last seen at a Christmas party where he had clearly tied one on. He said, "My memory is a little fuzzy but I didn't forget you jumping rope with the Christmas lights." Say what?

At a wake this afternoon, I finally heard the story. Two of my wilder girlfriends, who usually wear ornament earrings and blinking necklaces/rings/etc., were standing together at the holiday party and everyone kept commenting on how understated they were this year. (The holiday tiara wasn't enough apparently.) Finally, one grabbed all of the Christmas lights and wrapped them around her body just to get people to shut up. When she couldn't mingle against the wall all night, she then had her friends trying to find an extension cord. Somehow, as it does, it turned into a full-on, double dutch, jump rope contest indoors until someone landed on a bulb and it shattered. 

So I have to ask myself: why do I always leave too early?

The Owl House Review

Owl House is a very, very, very fine house . . . vegetarian, vegan and gluten-free in a charming old house (not Hooters).

My girlfriends and I went out last night to Owl House which has been garnering a lot of fabulous press lately including many yummy comments on Facebook. As someone who loves herself a cheeseburger but wishes she were a vegan, I just had to try it. After watching Food, Inc. a while back, I've been yearning to find great tasting yet good-for-ya (and the livestock) food. And, it's the New Year: time to eat well, right?

On Google, it has 31 reviews and 4.5 stars from sources such as Open Table, Beer Advocate, and TripAdvisor. Pretty impressive, huh!

On UrbanSpoon, it has 10 reviews and 5.0 stars. A perfect record.

On Facebook, it has over 1300 fans including six of my friends. Ah but not the friends I was with last night.

One word: Meh.

But first, our waitress was one of the best servers on the planet. No joke. Charming. Smiling. Affable. Helpful. Calm. Patient. Absolutely perfect. She was imported from Vancouver by way of Toronto or some such. Loved her. And the rest of the front of the house. It's a very warm and friendly atmosphere.

The food was, technically speaking, yucky. The cornmeal crusted, smoked tofu? Deep fried to a greasy perfection. I awoke in the middle of the night with stomach pains. The crunchy tilapia tacos? Flavor-for-flavor, identical twin to the smoked tofu. In a blind taste test, it would be impossible to differentiate between the two. I could go on but I cannot be bothered. Lentil burger? Okay when drenched in garlic mayo. Sirloin steak sandwich? Grizzle galore. A Sarah Palin favorite.

The best foods that we tried? #1: Grilled flatbead with fig, pear and goat cheese. Delicious. #2: The smoked trout hummus. #3: The rosemary & cracked pepper fries. (Because who doesn't like fries on a new year "diet"?)

Would I go back? Oddly enough, yes. It still contains the promise of something more. The whisper of health that better selections from the menu may have offered. Maybe, just maybe, the "real" chef called in sick and we were there on an off night? Or they have since cleaned the deep fryer? (Ack.)

Keep ya posted.

Fauxbriety

On behalf of a girlfriend who I love and who will remain nameless, I just coined a new word: fauxbriety.

Definition: "Even though I'm swerving all over the road and catapulting my car over snowbanks, I swear I haven't had a drink in weeks."

She claims it was a combination of cold medicine and queasiness so, unless it happens again, I'll have to take her word for it. To the best of my knowledge, it's never happened before so the benefit of the doubt seems to be in order here. In the meantime, I simply plan to stay clear of her car.

Taxi!

Update: So much for being proud of myself. I just Googled my new word and it's been on Urban Dictionary since 2008. Darn it all. 

ArtAwake

What a fun, sun-filled weekend. Hammock. Basketball. A little light cleaning.

Late Saturday afternoon, my mom, kids and I went to ArtAwake: an art/performance art gathering in a beautiful, vacant, old bank downtown. We went to see the opening band, 441, which is a bunch of 13 year old boys (i.e., a girlfriend's son and friends) who played rock hits like Led Zeppelin along with their own tunes that I preferred. Mad talent for middle school boys. There was food and wine. Interactive spaces for music and photography. People dressed in white who you could paint. (My kids declined; they're much too cool for that.) All-in-all, it was a nice diversion from the everyday tasks of life.

Afterward, we got delicious, pulled pork sandwiches at Sticky Lips then the kids had a sleepover at Grannie's while I went to see the hubby's band at Abilene. So. Much. Fun. There were heaps of bands playing elsewhere that night so the crowd was pretty light but we had a blast -- especially later when we had the dance floor to ourselves. My torn ligament was healing nicely so I tried to cement my feet to the floor and awkwardly dance in place; however, that gave way as the more fun songs were played later in the evening. Dancing without moving your feet is difficult and not so much fun, I've discovered.

It was pretty hot in the bar so we kept escaping to the patio out back to cool off. It was either that or take our shirts off -- which prompted us to ask ourselves if we had nice enough bras on to bare it all. (No, thankfully. And the ringleader of such activities had just left early so we weren't going to take up the reins in her absence.)

As a result, we started reminiscing/laughing about a night out maybe <20 years ago when a bunch of us went bowling at Clover Lanes. As the stakes got higher throughout the night, one thing led to another, and we were challenging each for extra points with daring feats of stupidity (e.g., five points if you take your shirt off). The night later became dubbed "bra bowling" as the men's Christian league beside us left quickly and the young man who was using the bowling lane equivalent of the zamboni to clean/buff the lanes before closing, fell over his equipment. Serves him right for staring at us and walking backward at the same time. D'oh!

I need to walk into town and hit Embrasse-Moi in case the occasion presents itself again soon. Must look my best.

Parenthetically Speaking

My girlfriends took me out on Monday night for a belated birthday dinner. I can honestly say, I have the greatest friends ever known to mankind. They're beautiful, smart, kind and funny as hell. It's one heckuva good combo. Per usual, our conversation ranged from vaginal reconstruction (a.k.a. the snatch lift) to the joy of breast exams and contained the mandatory discussion of hot men (i.e., famous and/or local).

Note #1: I have to use "and/or" in that sentence 'cause one of us scored a famous/local husband who's really easy on the eyes. (Yes, I'm talking about you, hon! And maybe just a little about John.)

Note #2: I say "no" to Robert Downey Jr.; I am completely overruled.

Anyhoo, we ventured to the Wegmans owned, newly opened Next Door Bar & Grill which is, in fact, next door to PETCO if you're keeping score. This is why their logo requires the failed logic, "across from Wegmans Pittsford" addendum. But, yet, I understand completely. Why name your restaurant something suitable (or compelling, for that matter) when you can now attract all of those customers who, while shopping for Max's biscuits, realize that they're so friggin' hungry they could devour a can of wet dog food and immediately realize, "Oh wait! Let's just go next door!" Very clever, Danny, very clever. Note to my vast readership: PETCO is also a great way to avoid valet parking if you're a) so inclined and b) in need of kitty litter. Win: win.

The restaurant itself is shockingly large inside (who knew the bowels of Rite-Aid were so vast?) and somewhat confused/confusing from a design aesthetic. In an odd, low budget tribute to Trading Spaces, the lobby contains pale wood shelving lined with fresh, green apples and the hallway to the main grill area is flanked by birch logs hanging from chains. I'm convinced that some (lazy) designer, channeling Hildi, probably made Alex, the General Manager, cut down a tree and then stay up all night turning it into "artful" decor the night before the grand opening. What a reveal that must have been for Danny, eh? I'm really hoping his expression was captured on film.

Although the main grill area was the place to see and be seen, we were hidden seated in a room to the side which was absolutely devoid of ambiance. (Placing us out of earshot was probably for the best given our topics of conversation. Prescient hostess?) My favorite topic, the cocktails (which weigh heavily in my ranking), were fabulous. One friend had a delicious Flock of Seagulls (pale blue) martini. I had a sake mojito. Yum.

The menu is great because it has both tasting dishes (to share) and full entrees (to hoard), if desired. We opted for dishes to share (i.e., the group-designed sampler platter which I love). At first blush, our waitress was extremely helpful. She did exactly what is needed: steer us away from potential disasters (apparently the fig and gorgonzola pizza is a huge miss) and direct us toward the culinary gems. One problem: the meals we ordered weren't all that spectacular. The spinach pizza was bland, the mussels and pommes frites were okay, and yet somehow the sushi was perfect. (I say that's a whole heck of a lot of overhead for a sushi joint. Shiki anyone?)

On our way out, we stopped into the bar just to check it out. While it has a nice feel and intimate seating areas with couches/chairs, it was also blasting techno/dance music. Very relaxing for a Monday night. To compound the confusion, there's another room off the back of the bar bathed in red light and disco dots. Hello Disco Stu. (And high five to the geriatric business dude who liked my dance moves. Next time I'm out partying on a school night, I'm looking for you grandpa! Game on.)

All in all, it was a great night out. Do I need to go Next Door any time soon? Nah.

Oh, and I have to include this song for Kris because I sing it every time I'm in a restaurant but I substitute Andres with Entree. Go figure. Catchy.

Me Jane

I went out for dinner and a mai tai the other night with a girlfriend from my old neighborhood who I haven't really spent any time with in almost 30 years (yikes!). Her status update on Facebook later that night said, "Enjoyed reconnecting with my past ~ and hopefully enriching my future."

She must have stopped by the library on her way home . . . ?

Speaking of enrichment, I met up with the hubby and kids after work at B&N last night. Son #2 wanted to see Peter Brown, the author and illustrator of Chowder, who had also spoken at their school earlier in the week. Afterward, the kid was racing around desperate to buy yet another book.

Note: We have millions of books. We visit the library weekly. And we place orders with Scholastic Books through the school (which annoys me: do my kids really need to go shopping at school? answer: yes, apparently). It just never ends.

Last night, Son #2 was looking for the Diary of a Wimpy Kid series that he's enamored with lately and came across a shelf with just a handful of copies of those we've already read. His face registered disappointment. A moment later, he spotted another entire shelving unit filled to the brim with the series and ran over. Upon seeing it, I said, "Whoa, there are tons of them here" to which he responded, with more sarcasm than I would have thought possible for a seven year old, "Uh, yeah, it's a BOOKSTORE."

Duh.

Golden Years

The sun is out. I'm behind my desk. No mini-weekend.

In other news, the recurring topic of the week: menopause.
What the . . . ?

Out with the girls on Friday night where the conversation turned hilarious re: the night sweats, the inability to sleep through the night, sleeping on top of a stack of towels, hot flashes, running from meetings drenched in sweat, and many more disgusting things that really aren't fit for print (but are great fodder for GNO). And it wasn't just one chiquita sharing her horror stories: it was all of us.

Wait, aren't we too young?

Last night, again. My girlfriend, who just turned 45 last month, was telling me that she's done. Done!

Sure, I've read about the joys of aging. Women finding their true selves. Quitting their corporate jobs and becoming artists. Getting the kids out of the house and discovering their true passions. Feeling sexier than ever. Really? Right now, I'm just feeling blah.

Run for the shadows in these golden years . . .

Twas the Day Before Christmas

And all through the RAC, not a treadmill was stirring . . . so, would someone please tell me why the gym is closed on Christmas Eve?

Anyhoo, before the Christmas carnage begins, highlights of my soon-to-be-a-distant-memory birthday include:

1. A cannot-stop-shoving-food-in-my-mouth-because-it's-so-good meal that my brother-in-law made complete with tenderloin that could melt in your mouth
2. Awesome presents from gorgeous sweaters to a trendy salsa/chips bowl, from iDogs to iPods, from wine to kahlua, and from furry purses to giant, fluffy pillows -- once again, spoiled rotten -- and one donation made in my name to the Smile Train which somehow tempers the greed a little and, for which, I am grateful
   
3. A fun-filled dinner at Tastings with my girlfriends where I had a beautiful and delicious (red and rimmed with gold sugar) fruitcake martini: two things that remind me of my Uncle Ed who I love and two things that, when mixed, prove that the whole can be greater than the sum of its parts
4. A birthday card that addressed the manly "why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?" question with its feminist counterpoint, "why buy the pig when you just need a little sausage?"
5. Getting my Christmas bonus . . . ahhhhhhhhhhhh
   
6. Leaving work on time for two whole days in a row; OMG, 44 is empowering! I feel like Oh Mighty Isis. What's next? Commanding the forces of nature?
   

Festivate & Rejoicify

A client/girlfriend took me to see Wicked last night. Given that I usually loathe musicals, I had zero desire to go but we ended up having such a great time!

Not only does it make the back story to the Wizard of Oz somehow interesting and compelling (how the witches became friends in school, how the Wicked Witch of the West became "bad," etc.) it's done in an eccentric and, at times, fairly hilarious fashion. Glinda, the good witch, really embodies the vacuous, over-the-top blond popular girl (a la Alicia Silverstone in Clueless) trying to make over her green friend who is, in actuality, very sweet.

The most amazing part for me, however, was the crowd's reaction. I felt like I was at a Beatles concert. I have never heard so many people go wild -- especially during a musical. What the . . . ?

The only things that would get me to go absolutely bananas like that might be winning the lottery or perhaps running into Wham! after a long day of drinking margaritas with my girlfriends.

Second Chances

Many moons ago, one of my girlfriends slept with some random guy, told us all how horrible it was, and then went and did it again. When we asked her why on earth she would do that to herself, she responded, “I just wanted to be sure.” Yeah, okay.

With that response in mind, I went out to dinner with two friends last week to, you guessed it, my much maligned new restaurant: Tasteology. And I’m thrilled to report that we had an absolute blast. Yep, you read that right.

For a multitude of reasons, the entire experience shifted enormously for me. The barren cafeteria-like seating now is flanked by potted “plants” (they’re actually bamboo-like sticks artistically placed but my lame description doesn’t do it justice – they really do warm the place up!) and, more importantly, you no longer have to order at the counter. There is now tableside wait service and Ben, our server, was as sweet as could be. In addition, they’ve added an organic wine bar (where the walk-up counter used to be), there are jazz bands scheduled to play throughout the week, and the side room is slated to become an art gallery. Honestly, it is not-so-gradually taking shape into a fabulous place to spend an evening out.

The night we dined there, the restaurant was hosting a “Culinary Smackdown” where two teams of local high school kids were competing in an Iron Chef-like competition. As such, the atmosphere was light and festive. If only we could have sampled their creations! And our food? I daresay it was good. I, of course, being risk-averse, ordered one of the dishes that the owner said was his favorite (i.e., the Southern Charm) and it was delicious. Mind you, at 12 points on Weight Watchers it’s much healthier than the calamari I had at JoJo the week before but also 2X what I should have ingested on my diet. Next time, I plan to share! My girlfriends’ meals were also good but one felt hers, the Panang Panache flatbread, was way too small (i.e., the calories appear to be in the peanut sauce that’s drizzled over the top) and the other thought hers wasn’t nearly as good as ours (i.e., the Sizzology – which was the best meal we had at our table last time oddly enough).

But the best part of the evening was when the owner stopped by to chat and treated us all to a glass of wine. He was a hysterical combination of extreme politeness (i.e., taking notes on all of our “ideas”), self-deprecating humor (“I can’t do that; I’m much too tired”), and complete honesty. He shared some of the many challenges they faced upon opening and how they promptly dealt with them. And he talked about how he takes all of his customer feedback, both good and bad, to heart. He is attempting to perfect the model before expanding/franchising too quickly and, in my opinion, he’s doing a fantastic job.

With that said, I actually look forward to going there again. Yikes. What’s next? Armageddon hungry.

Peace Like a River

A beautiful friend from when I was younger died yesterday at the age of 44. I don't want to wax on about her -- even though I could fill countless paragraphs and the words would flow easily -- because she's far too deserving for a footnote in a goofy blog about nothing.

Although I am not one to discount the value of friendship in general, it does make me think even harder about how blessed I am. I can count my mom and sister as tried-and-true girlfriends along with the girls who I grew up with and 40+ years later still hang out with as often as possible. Just this week, manicures, wine and dinner on Monday night (an early "happy birthday" for me) and back-to-back-to-back haircuts last night. I have crazy friends from high school who I get to see throughout the year, fabulous friends from college and grad school who gather together every couple of years (and email heaps in between), close friends from my days in NYC and DC who travel more than 1X/year to visit (and vice versa), awesome neighbors who I relax with every weekend, the Kismet girls from church (so named because we all connected so readily), my soulful but funny bible study girlfriends, and distant friends/cousins/sister-in-laws who I love and never see but some email frequently as if we were living next door to one another. It bears repeating: I am truly blessed.

But Mary's death made me think harder about the friends who I spent heaps of time with and loved dearly in a different period of my life but with whom I rarely connect any more. Some of these people simply drifted from my life, one or two passed away and others cut the ties in more meaningful (and sometimes painful) ways. Regardless of the way in which the friendships ended, they were all amazing while they lasted and for this I am deeply thankful.

So, although I cried rivers yesterday and will probably do the same tonight at the funeral home, I am even more grateful to be living a life filled with friends, laughter and love. And I'm soooo glad that my gorgeous friend Sallie, who has been in my life forever but who I rarely get to see, is planning to come with me. As always, we're going to need each other.

To quote the old hymn, penned by Horatio Spafford after his three daughters died while crossing the Atlantic, "It is well with my soul."

When peace like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.

Bible Study (or Not)

Last month, I showed up at my small group Bible study to find all the women drinking margaritas.

Before I arrived, they asked my friend Meg if she thought I would be offended!

Tonight, we're going out on the ring leader's boat for an end-of-summer get together with appetizers and cocktails before we get back into our Beth Moore "Believing God" DVD series in September.

I really know how to find 'em, don't I? To think I was nervous to join a small group for fear that I would be an outcast. Instead, I found myself with a bunch of predominantly 40-something women who are not only a riot to be with but also brutally open and honest. I love to be held accountable for my behavior/actions by others who can understand me without passing judgement.

More tequila anyone?