Drove with my sis to Brooklyn last weekend. FUN. My uber-generous mom is there staying at a friend's apartment and treating us to all sorts of goodies; my nephew, also in Brooklyn, hosted us, took us to restaurants and basically catered to our every whim. He's a keeper.
My favorite stop: The Brooklyn Flea Market. Check out the ornate ceiling!
I wanted everything there. Instead, I bought a few metal letters that I plan to affix to the bathroom wall and spell a nice little reminder to the fresh batch of boys that visit on a continual basis, "Wash your hands."
We had fun with these letters over lunch making all sorts of useless phrases.
We bought lottery tix (fingers crossed!) and picked out houses that we wanted in my girlfriend Abby's neighborhood where my mom is staying. My mom and sis are going to split the brick duplex. I'll take the white townhouse, thank you very much.
Had fun shopping, eating and just spending time with family. So so so so awesome.
The only drawback was the complimentary Sopranos tour of NJ that our GPS unexpectedly provided on the way home. Hello industrial park . . . hey, what are those Hefty bags scattered across the road filled with? Body parts?
Oh, and looky here: it says "Child Molester" on the green fence. Lovely. Let's stop and take a picture!
All in all, a great weekend. Ah Brooklyn, Brooklyn take me in.
I've decided that if you list all of the attributes of the perfect spouse (e.g., rich, handsome, kind, generous, pleasant, tidy, faithful), not only should "funny" be at the top of the list, it should be weighted more heavily than all of the other attributes combined--especially if you're like I am and take life a bit too seriously at times. Because when life hands you lemons, you may as well have someone beside you to unexpectedly squeeze them into your face and make you laugh.
Last week, I went to Stein Mart, home of the epic sale, and bought a slew of black sweaters, black skirts, black dresses, gray dresses, and so on (i.e., my daily work wardrobe) and only spent $200. I was soooo proud of myself. (Aside: I love how the Stein Mart receipt tallies your supposed savings! What a psychological boost to see that I presumably saved over $950.)
Hubby: Congratulations! You just spent $200 buying stuff you already own!
Last night, our family was watching a Nova episode entitled "Can We Live Forever?" in which they profiled the 13-lined ground squirrel -- an animal that can survive an experience which should have left him for dead: hibernation.
Hubby: Oh! I thought they were going to say "marriage."
Ha. Good for an unexpected laugh out of me and the thumbs-up from Son #1.
Short story long. It reminded me of a day spent, many moons ago, in pre-cana (i.e., mandatory premarital counseling for those being wed in the Catholic church). Our guide for the day was a deacon of the church and his wife, a woman of considerable heft. You could hide a Twinkie in her folds if she didn't get to it first. My most vivid memory of the day was when he talked about how he found God whenever he and his wife made love. Seriously. T! M! I!
Anyhoo, at our table were three women named Laura and Cathy Turner, local Olympic gold medalist in speed skating, along with their soon-to-be spouses. Each couple received a workbook that had a picture of a happy couple doing a crossword puzzle together. The first word, horizontal, was being filled in by the dude holding a pencil with the word "marriage." How sweet, right?
While the rest of the room was taking their partnering exercises very seriously, our whole table was cracking jokes. Turned out to be a pretty fun day, all things considered. At one point, I glanced at the cover of our workbook and noticed that my lovely boyfriend had drawn a speech bubble over the guy's photo and written, "Honey, what's an eight-letter word for incarceration?"
Upon reflection, I think that may have set the tone for our far-from-perfect but still funny marriage. I wonder how the rest of the couples in that room fared?
Yesterday, I had two luxurious hours completely to myself while the kids were at a birthday party so I went Christmas shopping at one of my favorite little stores: Archimage. In addition to getting heaps of great stocking stuffers for the kids (and who wouldn't want bloody eyeball band-aids in their stockings?), I found gag items for the under $10 Christmas fiesta gift swap across the street next weekend.
I wonder what lucky neighbor will be boastfully toting this beauty around Wegmans in the new year?
Or what happy party goer will be proudly serving gin & titonics next summer? (Whoever it is, I'll be there. These ice cube trays serve as an open invite, right?)
Lastly, I got a little magnet for my girlfriend/co-worker Jennifer who is in a constant battle of the sexes with her husband of a gazillion years.
Seriously though, if a man speaks in the middle of a forest and there is no woman around to hear him, IS he still wrong?
This is just the tip of the iceberg (no ice cube pun intended). I did way too much damage in one little store in return for nothing substantive. As I heard in church this morning, Christmas is like being mugged. It comes rushing in, empties your wallet and is gone in a flash.
My co-worker Jennifer and I just drove past Juan's Ghetto Nick-Naks (sic). Colorful storefront. Awesome name. And it's just up the street from Effen Haute*. Two birds/one stone! How on earth did I not notice it ever before?
Now I'm burning with curiosity to know what Juan sells in there . . . seriously. Any guesses?
I may have to stop next time I'm in the (neighbor)hood.
*Effen Haute is not, as it turns out, boarded up. It was open for business today. Thanks for all your concern.
They tried to make me go to rehab but I said “no, no, no.”
Okay, where to start with a fun-filled four day trip to NYC? Definitely with friends because I have the best friends anyone could ever wish for. Margaroo – definitely my best friend in a “past life” too (per her beliefs!) with heaps of continued common music/God interests to talk about. Martin – generous beyond belief, funny and kind to boot. Melissa – gorgeous, sweet, fun and spunky. Laura – awesome friendship that, over this weekend, included much schlepping about while I tried on clothes. (Sorry!) Petey – absolutely love him. Period. Janette – inspirational, energetic, driven and my future business partner, right?! Not to mention I loved meeting her gorgeous kids. John C. – really funny, as always. And it was nice to meet the “ex” girlfriend. Anu – elegant, beautiful and kind. Lastly, Ann and John – classic, upscale, reserved and probably wondering how on earth they ever became friends with us to begin with! (Read conservative: Ann rolled her eyes and promised to take in an episode of the Colbert Report in return for me trying Gossip Girls. I’m definitely game for that.)
I’m just sad that four days goes by so quickly.
If there’s a recession, it’s only noticeable by the crazy markdowns in the stores. Amazing sales but I’m not sure they’re warranted just yet. I have never seen so many people shopping in all my life. It was virtually impossible to navigate the sidewalks in the midtown/RockefellerCenter areas. I don’t remember it being quite so crowded in the years that we lived there. Or maybe I just shopped more wisely then than I do now as a tourist.
From dawn to well beyond dusk, we never stopped. We shopped at Century 21, Reiss, Zara (total crap), Bloomies, Saks, Designer Resale (my fave), ABC Carpet and Home, myriad shoe stores and the holiday fair at Union Square – which is one of my all-time favorite things to do at Christmas time. And the dude in the Celtic jewelry stand where Margaret bought her cross even played The Pogues “Fairy Tale in New York” just for me.
After all that, I only came home with two fat-ass-covering, cashmere sweaters and some cheap bracelets. Oh, and two hats: one orange and the other a leopard skin cap that Martin bought (i.e., one for each of us). Fun!
Speaking of fat asses, walked throughout downtown on Bleecker to find the best cupcakes in the world at Magnolia Bakery and then found them right up the street from our hotel at the Sixth Ave. branch again the very next day. Yessiree! A two-cupcake weekend!
Ate at normal but fun restaurants like the Shake Shack, Heartland Brewery, Chat 'n' Chew and a cool, newish bistro called Five Napkins (where I had a yummy frozen strawberry mojito at lunch – hey, I was on vacation). We also had a tasty meal (with a lychee martini) at Indochine where our cute waiter was great. Actually, we pretty much tested every appetizer there, too – all were fabooo. I even tried and liked the lamb appetizer. Who knew?
We ended that night at the Apartment in Grand Central Station where I had a big punch drink in an oversized brandy snifter. The next night Martin treated us to an unbelievable meal (read: non-economic downturn prices), with delicious wine, at Valbella a modern industrial space in the meatpacking district. Our waiter there was topnotch, too. Especially since his specials list went on for the better part of five minutes. Uh, could you repeat that? I opted for the shrimp stuffed with crabmeat stuffed with lobster stuffed with whatever else they could find appetizer followed by the white truffle linguini. Low fat for sure. And then we shared a Grand Marnier soufflé, two chocolate soufflés and crème brulee. Hello.
And my favorite of all favorite things to do in NYC? I went to church at Redeemer Presbyterian where Tim Keller preached a sermon on, of all topics, work! It was as if he knew I was going to be there . . . Also, the choir brought me to tears. It’s simply powerful to hear hymns echoed by a throng of hundreds. Just beautiful, I say, beautiful.
It was a perfect weekend. Perfect. However, now is the time to detox and I'll say, "yes, yes, yes."
I'm not really into folk art but aren't these sweet little blue birds adorable? Or this awesome Labrador?
I love how Etsy enables shops like this to thrive. I just wish I were crafty enough to create and sell my own pieces. Instead, I could spend the better part of a day going from seller to seller and checking out the handcrafted goods. Sure beats hitting the mall during the Christmas season!
Flew to DC for my girlfriend Kim's bachelorette party, stagette night, or more simply: girls' night out (i.e., GNO). It was great to meet her friends and even more awesome to (finally) meet, and spend some time with, the man of her dreams -- who is setting the bar a bit high for other men on this planet. Very thoughtful, intelligent, caring, handsome, normal, attitude-less and so on. What the ? Sensitive without being uh, how do you say, a sellout? Or wimpy? Definitely a hard balance that he's somehow perfected (at least more so than your average bear).
Even when we were getting ready to go out, they were covertly trying to figure out how they could somehow meet up later that night. Reinterpreting the whole GNO theme, I daresay.
Anyhoo, we had a really, really, really nice weekend. Totally chill. Sightseeing and shopping in Baltimore. Buying faboo new dresses at an edgy boutique: Form (hey mine was marked down to $129 from almost $500 -- score!). Hanging out at a couple of DC neighborhood bars. Relaxing over breakfast at an amazing restaurant that is part groovy lounge (old couches/crystal chandeliers) and part Polish diner (e.g., Kielbasa and egg breakfasts). Laughing a lot. Um, not to mention getting a little (!) emotional over their upcoming wedding. Chicks & love . . .
But my favorite line of the weekend came from Kim who toasted herself and her upcoming nuptials by happily exclaiming, "Here's to sleeping with the same guy for the rest of my life!"
Awesome! All of the married women at the table, perhaps me more than the others, were laughing their heads off.
My new favorite site: Vintageous! Chock full of evening gowns and cocktail dresses from the 40s, 50s and 60s.
Seriously, at less than $300, what bride wouldn't look fabulous in this?
Where was this site when I was getting married? Instead, in those pre-Vera Wang days, all of the dresses had gigantic bows, puffy sleeves, huge trains, etc. After countless failed efforts at finding reasonable dresses, the saleswoman at a local bridal store actually called my roommate Bae and me "the most conservative girls she had ever met." We preferred to think of ourselves as tasteful.
When my dress maker fell asleep on the job, I ended up buying a somewhat more-girly-than-myself number off the rack at the last minute but it had a sweet tulle skirt like the image above with daisies on it. Not all bad except that I had to have the sequins removed -- which the girl in the dressing room next to mine asked to have sewn onto her dress. Knock yourself out, they're all yours! (Sight unseen, I bet she had the proverbial big bangs that were popular in those days.)
Yet, when I picked the dress up, a number of sequins were still on it. Why? Were they load bearing? Nope, the tailor at the store simply couldn't imagine that I really wanted them all removed. Just unfathomable.
I stopped at the Saks Off 5th at the Niagara Falls Outlet Mall on the way home from a client last night to see if I could find a cute little black dress for an upcoming fund raising event. Nothing looked great on me but two inexpensive dresses -- one Calvin Klein and the other BCBG -- were okay. Just okay.
I asked the woman manning the dressing room what the return policy was: 30 days. "Bummer, I won't be back here until June 4."
She immediately got on the phone to her manager, told her that I cannot return to the store within 30 days and the manager told her that it's okay, she'll authorize it at the register and give me a couple days of flexibility.
Wow. That's customer service!
I went out to buy the dresses (so I can show them to my hubby, mom and sis to get feedback) and lo and behold, realized I had missed a big section of the store. I kept shopping, returned to the dressing room to try on the entire store's worth of little black dresses and, of course, looked heinous in all of them.
Needless to say, an hour later I headed back to the register with my original two frocks and . . . you guessed it, no one knew what I was talking about. "Our management would never agree to that." "Our policy is written; we cannot extend it."
To quote the Eagles, (I'm) "afraid it's all been wasted time."
Late to dinner with my girlfriends for naught. But spared from spending money on something frivolous that accentuates my lumpy body? Yes.
Last night, I ran into the Pittsford Mega-Wegs for some quick dinner items. I'm not a big grocery shopper and rarely relish the experience (again with the bad puns. must. stop.). However, yesterday I got a rare treat: somebody pimped my cart.
I'm no industrial designer but I'm guessing there was a bolt missing that keeps the basket firmly attached to the legs/wheels. As I went over the bumps on the floor -- especially the area near the cheese shop that is tiled! -- my cart undulated with style.
To add an even greater sense of the surreal to the entire encounter, Foghat's Slow Ride was playing over the store speakers. No one else seemed to find that music selection bizarre. Or at least others did not have incredulous smirks on their faces. Since when is grocery shopping supposed to whisk you back into your Dazed and Confused days of yesteryear?
But seriously, I think I'm onto the prototype cart of the future. My realization (in technical terms) is that carts don't need to be so blinking herky-jerky or unwieldy. Alas, I wish I had flagged it somehow so I could find it on my next journey into the wilds of Weggies. It made the entire experience so much smoooooother.
If there's a next time with the cart-of-my-dreams, I hope to hear Low Rider. And I'll plan to buy some Colt 45.
A few years ago, I was walking in midtown Manhattan with my mom – who grew up in the city. I told her, “Every block of this city reminds me of Grandpa” because, as a career funeral chauffeur, he knew every inch of the city -- every church, every synagogue, every street, and every alley -- like the back of his hand.
She responded with a litany of one-liners, “You’re living in the past; you need to move on. Don’t be so emotional. He had a long life.” And so on. Basically telling me to get over it.
Not one minute later, we turned the corner where Alexander’s, the once famous department store where she had worked, was being razed.
She stopped dead in her tracks and gasped, “Oh my God, Alexander’s is gone!”
