Some days I feel like I've said everything I need to say at least once, and writing more is just a different version of something I've already written.
Other days I'm even more critical wondering who really cares about my day-to-day when there are so many important, bad-news stories around.
I have friends and family I know who would be happy if I gave up my blog. They think I either expose too much or should use my writing time to do something more productive — like volunteer.
And when I write, I reveal a part of myself to the world, and therefore risk being judged. Right now, I'd prefer not to take that risk. I could never be a politician or celebrity. My skin is not tough enough.
So I'm taking a little break through the end of the year.
I won't bother people at Thanksgiving who just want to socialize and have fun without worrying about seeing their photos on my blog.
Or friends who would rather not be photographed or written about at all.
It's not good-bye; it's more like see you soon.
Monday, November 12, 2018
Wednesday, November 7, 2018
new commitment
I'd like a dog but my building doesn't allow them.
I'd consider a cat but I have no obscure place to put the kitty litter.
No other pets interest me.
My sister Jean is coming to visit today. I want the apartment to look nice; she hasn't been here in almost six years.
I go to the local florist to buy some flowers. I'd like some color. But flowers are so fleeting.
Instead, I walk out with this:
I have never been good with plants, so I'm a little nervous about its care. But I'm told it only needs watering once a week.
What I'd really love is a Fiddle Leaf Fig tree, but that feels like such a major commitment.
I'll start small and see where it leads.
My new little plant will be my test. Poor baby.
Sunday, November 4, 2018
new york's finest
If anything, I'm resourceful.
Today is the NYC Marathon. All participants travel up First Avenue; I live between First and York. Last year I remember leaving for work, around 11:30. I was met with three-deep cheering crowds and inspiring runners converging on First Avenue. Barriers and police prevented any crossing. I ended up getting a ride with a stranger whose car I approached on York Avenue.
I didn't want this happening again.
So I decide to leave early, before the runners make it to First. I'm showered, dressed, and out-the-door by 10. First Avenue is empty, but barriers and police are still blocking the street.
"Sorry, ma'am, but no one is allowed to cross the street until later today. If you want to cross, you'll have to go down to 59th Street."
There are no runners yet. Only a handful of bikers. I beg. I plead. It does no good.
And then some older guy, on crutches, says he needs to get to Urgent Care across the street. When the police don't let him through, I know I have no chance.
I walk over to York.
No busses. No cabs. And Via can't get through. Maybe I just won't go in. Work has been dismal lately anyway.
Then I see a police officer on a scooter and get an idea.
The policeman guarding the barrier on York and 79th sees me eyeing the scooter and says, "Don't bother. Those are one seaters."
But then I see another, better possibility.
So I approach.
I plead my weak case.
The two police officers consider my request, discuss it between them, and then, unlock the door and say, "Jump in."
My first time riding in a police car.
I can't believe the generosity of the two officers who are likely going against police policy. That's why no photos of them.
But I did manage a few non-incriminating ones.
The cage and blinking red lights behind me.:
MY driver and his partner in the front
Maybe next year I'll see if I can get a ride on a firetruck.
Today is the NYC Marathon. All participants travel up First Avenue; I live between First and York. Last year I remember leaving for work, around 11:30. I was met with three-deep cheering crowds and inspiring runners converging on First Avenue. Barriers and police prevented any crossing. I ended up getting a ride with a stranger whose car I approached on York Avenue.
I didn't want this happening again.
So I decide to leave early, before the runners make it to First. I'm showered, dressed, and out-the-door by 10. First Avenue is empty, but barriers and police are still blocking the street.
"Sorry, ma'am, but no one is allowed to cross the street until later today. If you want to cross, you'll have to go down to 59th Street."
There are no runners yet. Only a handful of bikers. I beg. I plead. It does no good.
And then some older guy, on crutches, says he needs to get to Urgent Care across the street. When the police don't let him through, I know I have no chance.
I walk over to York.
No busses. No cabs. And Via can't get through. Maybe I just won't go in. Work has been dismal lately anyway.
Then I see a police officer on a scooter and get an idea.
The policeman guarding the barrier on York and 79th sees me eyeing the scooter and says, "Don't bother. Those are one seaters."
But then I see another, better possibility.
So I approach.
I plead my weak case.
The two police officers consider my request, discuss it between them, and then, unlock the door and say, "Jump in."
My first time riding in a police car.
I can't believe the generosity of the two officers who are likely going against police policy. That's why no photos of them.
But I did manage a few non-incriminating ones.
The cage and blinking red lights behind me.:
MY driver and his partner in the front
Maybe next year I'll see if I can get a ride on a firetruck.
Thursday, October 18, 2018
bad behavior
My favorite time of year is now.
I love everything about fall: the weather, the clothes, the new TV shows, new plays, screening season, my son's birthday and Thanksgiving.
I am busiest this time of year, basically doing two things: seeing movies and working.
During screening season, and I go to about two or three films a week. Most are pre-release. And many include Q&A's with top talent. But since I don't want this blog to be a movie review site (there are far more qualified people to do that), there's not much for me to say about what I'm doing most nights.
Work fluctuates between incredibly busy and why-are-there-so few-people here except for so many of us associates? I've had some great customers, and that's what I love most about my job. But there are some bad ones.
They're the ones who talk to me like I'm an idiot. Or are rude and dismissive. Or who waste my time having me run around and pick sizes and styles they have no intention of buying. But the ones that make me angriest are the ones who should know better.
In October of last year, we get an email. Now instead of getting 6 or 7% commission on employees who shop our store, we will get 1%. And, as always, we only get paid commission.
So if, for example, an item costs $1,000, I could be paid $70 in commission if bought by a regular customer. But if that same item is sold to an employee, I would get paid $6 in commission (accounting for the generous employee discount we all get).
Said differently, I basically get paid nothing for helping employees.
When I shop, I always announce right away that I am an employee. I did this even before the change in commission. But many employees don't.
My effort in working with non-employees and employees is exactly the same running around for sizes, same looking up items we don't have but other stores might; same re-stocking; same everything. And while I am helping either, I am not helping someone else.
Last week two young women come in. They take up a lot of my time. Ask me to get something off a mannequin, which requires calling another department and getting them to come and help. Then the two women, while both very nice, buy nothing. They ask me to put the items they want on-hold (which requires a whole other process, and is something we are not even supposed to do for employees) and promise to come back the next day. They don't. Then, the next day after they are supposed to come in, I get an email from one of the them telling me she's an employee and apologizing for not coming back.
A few days later two women come in and begin shopping around 7pm. I leave at 7:15, but they look promising so I stay. At 7:45 they check out. And that's when I realize they are employees. Not because they ever tell me, but because their credit cards identify them as employees. They buy little. Leave their rooms a mess. And even ask me to hold some stuff for them. I leave an hour after I'm supposed to and gross $7 for my effort.
Where is common courtesy?
How is it that some people can be so clueless? Or uncaring?
Fortunately, most people are respectful and kind. If only their good manners could rub off on the others...
I love everything about fall: the weather, the clothes, the new TV shows, new plays, screening season, my son's birthday and Thanksgiving.
I am busiest this time of year, basically doing two things: seeing movies and working.
During screening season, and I go to about two or three films a week. Most are pre-release. And many include Q&A's with top talent. But since I don't want this blog to be a movie review site (there are far more qualified people to do that), there's not much for me to say about what I'm doing most nights.
Work fluctuates between incredibly busy and why-are-there-so few-people here except for so many of us associates? I've had some great customers, and that's what I love most about my job. But there are some bad ones.
They're the ones who talk to me like I'm an idiot. Or are rude and dismissive. Or who waste my time having me run around and pick sizes and styles they have no intention of buying. But the ones that make me angriest are the ones who should know better.
In October of last year, we get an email. Now instead of getting 6 or 7% commission on employees who shop our store, we will get 1%. And, as always, we only get paid commission.
So if, for example, an item costs $1,000, I could be paid $70 in commission if bought by a regular customer. But if that same item is sold to an employee, I would get paid $6 in commission (accounting for the generous employee discount we all get).
Said differently, I basically get paid nothing for helping employees.
When I shop, I always announce right away that I am an employee. I did this even before the change in commission. But many employees don't.
My effort in working with non-employees and employees is exactly the same running around for sizes, same looking up items we don't have but other stores might; same re-stocking; same everything. And while I am helping either, I am not helping someone else.
Last week two young women come in. They take up a lot of my time. Ask me to get something off a mannequin, which requires calling another department and getting them to come and help. Then the two women, while both very nice, buy nothing. They ask me to put the items they want on-hold (which requires a whole other process, and is something we are not even supposed to do for employees) and promise to come back the next day. They don't. Then, the next day after they are supposed to come in, I get an email from one of the them telling me she's an employee and apologizing for not coming back.
A few days later two women come in and begin shopping around 7pm. I leave at 7:15, but they look promising so I stay. At 7:45 they check out. And that's when I realize they are employees. Not because they ever tell me, but because their credit cards identify them as employees. They buy little. Leave their rooms a mess. And even ask me to hold some stuff for them. I leave an hour after I'm supposed to and gross $7 for my effort.
Where is common courtesy?
How is it that some people can be so clueless? Or uncaring?
Fortunately, most people are respectful and kind. If only their good manners could rub off on the others...
Friday, October 12, 2018
a few favorites
I sometimes find myself lost in youtube makeup tutorials.
I am a real sucker for new products with great reviews. Some work for me; some don't.
But I have a few things I feel compelled to recommend as they are my can't-live-withouts.
Top of my list is the Oval #7 Artis Brush
M bought one a few months ago and told me about it, but I was so happy with my Wayne Goss brushes I didn't think I'd ever be buying new ones again. I'm glad I was wrong. Now I can pretty much get rid of all my brushes and just keep the one Artis. These brushes come in multiple sizes (I also have the linear # 3 for eyeshadow) but if you are getting one, get the #7. It blends makeup perfectly, and the #7 can be used for creams, powders and liquids.
BY Terry Concealer (I use #02, Vanilla Beige)
Great for under eyes. Liquid, creamy, and a nice brightener. I always feel better wearing it.
Burberry Fresh Glow
I wear this over moisturizer and under makeup. It feels great going on and melts into your skin. It gives a great glow, without making you feel shiny.
Ellis Faas (#103 for me)
I usually just wear a tinted moisturizer but have been reading about this brand called Ellis Faas. Everyone who uses it seems to love it. It's easy to buy online but no where else. But I'm resourceful and find the one store in Manhattan that sells Ellis Faas— CO Bigelow, the oldest apothecary in America, located in the West Village. I try the #103 (fair with pink tones) and buy it. I've worn it only once and already love it. It gives a little more coverage than a tint, feels light and dewy on, and is totally buildable. The search has been worth it.
Lancome Definicils Mascara
This has been around for a while. I've tried many mascaras and hate most of them. My eyes always feel heavy. M told me about this product (I think it's won some awards) and I love it.
Urban Decay Glide On Eye-Pencil
Easy to apply (if you don't need a perfect line). I got Smoke and Empire. It really makes the color in one's eyes pop, at least it does mine.
RMS
I like this organic brand. I use and love the "Un Cover-Up (#11) and the Lip-to-cheek Demure for a spot of color.
Molten Brown Body Wash
Love these for baths. Great foaming and great smelling. I particularly like Ginger Lily,
Rhubarb and Rose, and White Sandalwood. My guess, though, is that they are all nice.
Colorscience 3 in 1
Just bought this after all the rave reviews. Still haven't opened the box.
Let me know if you have any must-haves. Or, your opinion if you try any of my recommendations. Would love to know.
I am a real sucker for new products with great reviews. Some work for me; some don't.
But I have a few things I feel compelled to recommend as they are my can't-live-withouts.
Top of my list is the Oval #7 Artis Brush
M bought one a few months ago and told me about it, but I was so happy with my Wayne Goss brushes I didn't think I'd ever be buying new ones again. I'm glad I was wrong. Now I can pretty much get rid of all my brushes and just keep the one Artis. These brushes come in multiple sizes (I also have the linear # 3 for eyeshadow) but if you are getting one, get the #7. It blends makeup perfectly, and the #7 can be used for creams, powders and liquids.
BY Terry Concealer (I use #02, Vanilla Beige)
Great for under eyes. Liquid, creamy, and a nice brightener. I always feel better wearing it.
Burberry Fresh Glow
I wear this over moisturizer and under makeup. It feels great going on and melts into your skin. It gives a great glow, without making you feel shiny.
Ellis Faas (#103 for me)
I usually just wear a tinted moisturizer but have been reading about this brand called Ellis Faas. Everyone who uses it seems to love it. It's easy to buy online but no where else. But I'm resourceful and find the one store in Manhattan that sells Ellis Faas— CO Bigelow, the oldest apothecary in America, located in the West Village. I try the #103 (fair with pink tones) and buy it. I've worn it only once and already love it. It gives a little more coverage than a tint, feels light and dewy on, and is totally buildable. The search has been worth it.
Lancome Definicils Mascara
This has been around for a while. I've tried many mascaras and hate most of them. My eyes always feel heavy. M told me about this product (I think it's won some awards) and I love it.
Urban Decay Glide On Eye-Pencil
Easy to apply (if you don't need a perfect line). I got Smoke and Empire. It really makes the color in one's eyes pop, at least it does mine.
RMS
I like this organic brand. I use and love the "Un Cover-Up (#11) and the Lip-to-cheek Demure for a spot of color.
Molten Brown Body Wash
Love these for baths. Great foaming and great smelling. I particularly like Ginger Lily,
Rhubarb and Rose, and White Sandalwood. My guess, though, is that they are all nice.
Colorscience 3 in 1
Just bought this after all the rave reviews. Still haven't opened the box.
Let me know if you have any must-haves. Or, your opinion if you try any of my recommendations. Would love to know.
Wednesday, October 10, 2018
an unplanned procedure
I come home last night after seeing a screening for BAD TIMES AT THE EL ROYALE with Shari and Stephanie. Our feelings ranged from didn't like it at all to still not quite sure.
I'm washing up, look in the mirror, and see this in my right eye:
WTF?
I immediately text my friend M, my unofficial doctor, though she has no medical training. I send her a few pictures with the question:
She texts back:
How did it happen? I looked in the mirror and it was there.
Today I get up and call my eye doctor first thing. He can see me if I can get there in 12 minutes. I leave the house and make it in on time.
I had had minor eye surgery on July 16. He looks at my eye and somberly says, "This is very unusual."
"Typically if this is going to happen, it happens within two weeks of surgery."
I'm almost three months out.
But he assures me that I needn't worry. "Some tissues may have been cut during surgery, and are hanging by a tiny thread. Do you want me to remove it now?"
I tell him yes.
He numbs the area around my eye. Then cuts the blood-filled blob —which he describes as "very big" — out.
He tells me my eye might bruise a bit, but there is no aftercare, and to have a nice day.
Already I feel better.
I'm washing up, look in the mirror, and see this in my right eye:
WTF?
I immediately text my friend M, my unofficial doctor, though she has no medical training. I send her a few pictures with the question:
Should I be scared?
She texts back:
Depends. How did it happen?
How did it happen? I looked in the mirror and it was there.
Today I get up and call my eye doctor first thing. He can see me if I can get there in 12 minutes. I leave the house and make it in on time.
I had had minor eye surgery on July 16. He looks at my eye and somberly says, "This is very unusual."
"Typically if this is going to happen, it happens within two weeks of surgery."
I'm almost three months out.
But he assures me that I needn't worry. "Some tissues may have been cut during surgery, and are hanging by a tiny thread. Do you want me to remove it now?"
I tell him yes.
He numbs the area around my eye. Then cuts the blood-filled blob —which he describes as "very big" — out.
He tells me my eye might bruise a bit, but there is no aftercare, and to have a nice day.
Already I feel better.
Monday, October 8, 2018
a weekly game
I took four Canasta lessons in June, and haven't played since.
Summer is a bad time to start a weekly game; everyone's schedules are too unpredictable. But now it's fall, and we are ready.
Tonight, eight of us meet to play Canasta. We hire Sharon, our excellent teacher who knows us all, having taught us all this summer.
In anticipation, I review my little book, having forgotten just about everything I learned. I also bake some chocolate chip cookies. They taste okay, if you can ignore the burnt bottoms.
Janice hosts, and we start exactly on time. It's a very punctual group. Zelia and I are partners. Some are better players than others and I definitely fall at the bottom. Everyone else is on the high school level while I am still in third grade. But the group is fun, vocal, and patient.
We play three games in two hours.
I am still on the fence about the game.
I love the idea of getting together with friends every Monday night.
I love cards.
And I like competition.
But there seem to be a million rules.
And a lot to keep track of: how many sevens in the pack; how many aces; what your partner may be telling you through her cards; what my opponents are playing; and a lot more that I've probably already forgotten.
It's hard to imagine there being a time when I can say I know how to play canasta, though I'm hoping that will change.
Summer is a bad time to start a weekly game; everyone's schedules are too unpredictable. But now it's fall, and we are ready.
Tonight, eight of us meet to play Canasta. We hire Sharon, our excellent teacher who knows us all, having taught us all this summer.
In anticipation, I review my little book, having forgotten just about everything I learned. I also bake some chocolate chip cookies. They taste okay, if you can ignore the burnt bottoms.
Janice hosts, and we start exactly on time. It's a very punctual group. Zelia and I are partners. Some are better players than others and I definitely fall at the bottom. Everyone else is on the high school level while I am still in third grade. But the group is fun, vocal, and patient.
We play three games in two hours.
I am still on the fence about the game.
I love the idea of getting together with friends every Monday night.
I love cards.
And I like competition.
But there seem to be a million rules.
And a lot to keep track of: how many sevens in the pack; how many aces; what your partner may be telling you through her cards; what my opponents are playing; and a lot more that I've probably already forgotten.
It's hard to imagine there being a time when I can say I know how to play canasta, though I'm hoping that will change.
Thursday, October 4, 2018
a night with some stars
BAFTA NY honors Lorne Michaels and I'm invited. Along with the rest of the BAFTA Board and 80 others.
After some late afternoon showers the rain passes through and the stars come out. Melinda —a fellow-Board member and friend — and I arrive in Brooklyn a little after seven. The event is being held at Dumbo House.
Manhattan and the Brooklyn Bridge provide the perfect backdrop to this great location.
Dumbo House, a private club, is the perfect venue for tonight's event. We walk in and there are photographers and stars everywhere. And it's hard not to notice the small touches that make the event more personal.
Most of the current SNL cast attends (including Kate McKinnon, Cecily Strong, Colin Jost, Michael Che and Aidy Bryant). Also present are Fred Armisen, Paul Rudd and Jon Hamm.
It's a small group (about 90 people) so it's easy to approach and talk to whomever. But of course I'm too shy to do that as much as I'd like.
I do, though, compliment Aidy on her portrayal of Rachel Mitchell this past week. She totally nailed it. And I introduce myself to Kate McKinnon and tell her how much I love her impersonations, particularly those of Rudy Giuliani and Ruth Bader Ginsberg.
I sit at a table of 8, that includes Beck Bennett, Melissa Villasenor, and the writer/actor Streeter Seidell. On my right is Kyle Mooney and on my left is Tom Broecker, an SNL costume designer. Both are easy to talk to, open, and totally enjoyable. I learn a lot about the process and ridiculously short turn-around that is required to produce each show. I can't imagine the kind of stress the entire cast and crew are under week after week.
The speeches are short, funny, and of course utterly entertaining, especially the one given by Sir. Patrick Stewart who introduces Lorne Michaels.
It's a beautiful night with beautiful people, here to honor a man, deserving of his BAFTA mask.
Tuesday, October 2, 2018
rendezvous with shah
I always keep two pairs of reading glasses at work in case I lose one.
On Friday I had two pairs. By Saturday I had none.
When I got home Friday night I noticed that a pair of my Eyebobs was missing. (Eyebobs is a great site for inexpensive but stylish reading glasses).
By end of day Saturday, my $15 Duane Reade glasses had lost a lens, making me dizzy every time I had to put them on.
At work, I looked all over the normal places to see if anyone had found my glasses, but no one had. I think maybe I lost them in the Via I took home on Friday night. So I write to Via and they provide me with the driver's contact info.
I call the driver on Sunday and hear nothing back.
Today I try again; this time with success.
Yes, the glasses are mine.
We arrange to meet at the 72nd Street Subway. I grab $15 to give him and leave my house.
I see him on the corner, just where we have agreed to meet.
I thank him and hand him some money. He adamantly refuses the tip I want to give him.
I promise to write to VIA to tell them about Shah. He thanks me, smiles, and is on his way.
I hope Shah has a great vacation, and that I get to ride with him again.
His warm smile reflects his kind heart.
On Friday I had two pairs. By Saturday I had none.
When I got home Friday night I noticed that a pair of my Eyebobs was missing. (Eyebobs is a great site for inexpensive but stylish reading glasses).
By end of day Saturday, my $15 Duane Reade glasses had lost a lens, making me dizzy every time I had to put them on.
At work, I looked all over the normal places to see if anyone had found my glasses, but no one had. I think maybe I lost them in the Via I took home on Friday night. So I write to Via and they provide me with the driver's contact info.
I call the driver on Sunday and hear nothing back.
Today I try again; this time with success.
Yes, the glasses are mine.
We arrange to meet at the 72nd Street Subway. I grab $15 to give him and leave my house.
I see him on the corner, just where we have agreed to meet.
I thank him and hand him some money. He adamantly refuses the tip I want to give him.
I promise to write to VIA to tell them about Shah. He thanks me, smiles, and is on his way.
I hope Shah has a great vacation, and that I get to ride with him again.
His warm smile reflects his kind heart.
Sunday, September 23, 2018
taking the plunge
She tells me this after I've taken no pictures of the bride and groom, though one of the guests sends me one of theirs.
All day Saturday it's overcast and cool.
The ceremony is outside.
All brides are beautiful, and Josie is no exception. She is stunning in a sleek, sophisticated dress, and the same veil that M wore at her wedding. Josie arrives on a boat, to big cheers from the waiting guests. Her older brother officiates, and gives a warm, and meaningful speech.
Sam and Josie are happy people. They are lucky to have that gene. Although there is much for them both to be grateful for, their happiness comes from within. They have been together for ten years, and their close friends and family are joyous to see them take this big step.
Drinks and hors d'hoeuvres follow the ceremony, and are the backdrop for the most incredible sunset.
M uncharacteristically agrees to a photo with me.
It's a glorious night. Filled with great food, great people, a great band, and even great fireworks. Literally.
Tonight's date is particularly significant, as it's the same date that M and Tobey, Sam's parents, got married 34 years ago.
And every person in their wedding party is here tonight to celebrate the marriage of Sam and Josie.
Early Sunday morning a group of eight brave people are meeting on the pier. They all plan to take the polar plunge.
I bump into Sam and Harrison on the way there.
It's a gorgeous fall day. The participants hold hands. And on the count of three, they jump into the icy Maine waters.
It's a fitting end to a spectacular weekend.
Saturday, September 22, 2018
alone in nature
I wake up, step onto my second-story terrace, and look out onto Sebaco Lake. It's hard not to be awed by its beauty.
The grounds are stunning.
I bump into the groom on my way to breakfast.
Although I'm not particularly hungry, I still eat a lot: a muffin, pancakes with Maine blueberries, and bacon. A few of us hang out at one of the cottages for a while, and then I decide to go for a walk alone — along the trails winding through the woods.
But first, I check with the front desk on two issues.
"You can't get lost on the trails, right." The woman at the front desk assures me that I can't.
I next need assurance on the wildlife.
"Are there any bears here?"
"We've never been told of any," she responds.
So I decide it's safe enough to go alone; I even leave my phone behind.
It's quiet.
Majestic, even.
Eventually I see some others; I ask for a photo and they comply.
I continue walking, After a while I find myself on a secluded road.
No cars.
No people.
Just me.
Initially I think, "This is so nice. Just me and nature."
But that doesn't last long. Soon I'm imagining disastrous possibilities.
What if I do get lost?
What if I miss tonight's wedding?
Where would I find shelter if I had to sleep out here? I bet it'd be freezing once the sun goes down.
I have no phone. I can't even call for help.
What should I do if see a bear, even though I'm told there are no bears? What if the desk clerk was wrong?
Oh, and I forgot to ask about moose. Do they wander these woods? Do they ever attack people?
I turn back, grab a picnic lunch, and read for a few hours before the wedding.
The grounds are stunning.
I bump into the groom on my way to breakfast.
Although I'm not particularly hungry, I still eat a lot: a muffin, pancakes with Maine blueberries, and bacon. A few of us hang out at one of the cottages for a while, and then I decide to go for a walk alone — along the trails winding through the woods.
But first, I check with the front desk on two issues.
"You can't get lost on the trails, right." The woman at the front desk assures me that I can't.
I next need assurance on the wildlife.
"Are there any bears here?"
"We've never been told of any," she responds.
So I decide it's safe enough to go alone; I even leave my phone behind.
It's quiet.
Majestic, even.
Eventually I see some others; I ask for a photo and they comply.
I continue walking, After a while I find myself on a secluded road.
No cars.
No people.
Just me.
Initially I think, "This is so nice. Just me and nature."
But that doesn't last long. Soon I'm imagining disastrous possibilities.
What if I do get lost?
What if I miss tonight's wedding?
Where would I find shelter if I had to sleep out here? I bet it'd be freezing once the sun goes down.
I have no phone. I can't even call for help.
What should I do if see a bear, even though I'm told there are no bears? What if the desk clerk was wrong?
Oh, and I forgot to ask about moose. Do they wander these woods? Do they ever attack people?
I turn back, grab a picnic lunch, and read for a few hours before the wedding.
Friday, September 21, 2018
off to Maine
This weekend is my friend's son's wedding. She's asked me not to blog about the details.
So instead, I'll write about other parts of the weekend; the parts that don't involve the bride and groom — two people I adore.
I leave the house before the sun is up, to arrive at JFK for an 8:37 flight to Portland. I get to the airport at 8, and am told by someone at the gate, "You better hurry. They're boarding." I am one of the last people on the plane; and all the overheads are full. I'm forced to check my luggage. Ugh!
By 8:22 the doors are locked and we are taxiing down the runway. 15 minutes before our scheduled departure. I can almost hear my mom whispering in my ear, "See, that's why you should always be early."
My friend V picks me up around 10, and because we can't check in to our hotel until 3, we decide to troll around Portland. Our first stop is some kind of famous donut place where mashed potatoes are used in the batter (though you'd never know it). Our weekend eating binge begins early.
The choices are massive. I go with a rather bland —though still delicious — maple glazed donut.
We walk around the downtown area and hit a few stores. Except for three mini jars of Stonewall Kitchen Jams, I buy nothing.
A place called The Highroller is highly recommended for lunch. The sign outside and the line inside confirm it must be good.
Our lobster rolls arrive, and the meat is generous. It's $19 and served on a toasted brioche roll —no sides.
It looks great.
But it isn't.
The roll is warm. The lobster ghee (something like melted butter) is warm. And the rather tasteless lobster is ice cold — a disappointing combination.
We leave Portland, and drive about 40 minutes to our destination. —an idyllic little camp nestled in the Maine woods.
I stay in the main lodge in a gorgeous room with a wood-burning fireplace, the perfect lake view, and no locks on the door. It's a trusting environment.
The extraordinary lobster bake ( also including steamers, chowder, corn, and a home-baked blueberry cobbler) for dinner more than compensates for our paltry lunch.
It's a great start to what undoubtedly will be a memorable weekend.
So instead, I'll write about other parts of the weekend; the parts that don't involve the bride and groom — two people I adore.
I leave the house before the sun is up, to arrive at JFK for an 8:37 flight to Portland. I get to the airport at 8, and am told by someone at the gate, "You better hurry. They're boarding." I am one of the last people on the plane; and all the overheads are full. I'm forced to check my luggage. Ugh!
By 8:22 the doors are locked and we are taxiing down the runway. 15 minutes before our scheduled departure. I can almost hear my mom whispering in my ear, "See, that's why you should always be early."
My friend V picks me up around 10, and because we can't check in to our hotel until 3, we decide to troll around Portland. Our first stop is some kind of famous donut place where mashed potatoes are used in the batter (though you'd never know it). Our weekend eating binge begins early.
The choices are massive. I go with a rather bland —though still delicious — maple glazed donut.
We walk around the downtown area and hit a few stores. Except for three mini jars of Stonewall Kitchen Jams, I buy nothing.
A place called The Highroller is highly recommended for lunch. The sign outside and the line inside confirm it must be good.
Our lobster rolls arrive, and the meat is generous. It's $19 and served on a toasted brioche roll —no sides.
It looks great.
But it isn't.
The roll is warm. The lobster ghee (something like melted butter) is warm. And the rather tasteless lobster is ice cold — a disappointing combination.
We leave Portland, and drive about 40 minutes to our destination. —an idyllic little camp nestled in the Maine woods.
I stay in the main lodge in a gorgeous room with a wood-burning fireplace, the perfect lake view, and no locks on the door. It's a trusting environment.
The extraordinary lobster bake ( also including steamers, chowder, corn, and a home-baked blueberry cobbler) for dinner more than compensates for our paltry lunch.
It's a great start to what undoubtedly will be a memorable weekend.
Wednesday, September 19, 2018
break fast
For as long as I can remember, I've fasted on Yom Kippur. No water, no food, nothing.
I no longer go to temple, but I still say prayers. — though my praying time is far shorter than those that attend synagogue.
Still, I do observe this Day of Atonement. I stay home most of the day, not doing much of anything.
Whenever I'm meeting up with my NY-based family, I get anxious over what to wear. I have plenty of work clothes, and even sufficient dress clothes. But my wardrobe is weakest in the category of casual, but not jeans-casual. Just about everyone in my family is fashion forward (my brother-in-law and his family are in the business). So I know everyone else will be wearing the perfectly accessorized, understated outfit. In the end, I put on a pair of leather pants (the only pants I own aside from jeans) and a white Simone Rocha top.
I leave for my sister's house in Long Island around 3:30, getting in a little after five.
By the time I arrive, many people are already there. Someone has proclaimed that it's now okay to break the fast. We are not a religious family.
Three of the "kids" are now married: Adam, Jason and Jessica. They have all chosen well — not only in their choice of spouses, but also in the families they come from.
This is the first year that Debra and Charles (Rachel's parents) have joined us, though it hardly feels that way. They are warm and engaging, and so easy to be with. I sit next to Charles and his genuine interest in film and my BAFTA involvement totally endears him to me.
Nina and Jay, Jessica's in-laws, are also present. And they too, feel like they've always been a part of the family.
In all, there are 15 of us, though another 11 or so are still missing. My family keeps expanding, and it makes our holidays that much more fun and interesting.
We are a very vocal family, and we don't always share the same point of view. But that's part of what makes getting together always so entertaining. And, there are some very witty, and very funny people among us.
It's a great night. Perfect except for the long, long ride home (so much traffic, even at 10 pm). Hewlett to NYC never felt so far.
(Oh, and why only a picture of a T-shirt? I decide to spare my family the agony of photographing them).
I no longer go to temple, but I still say prayers. — though my praying time is far shorter than those that attend synagogue.
Still, I do observe this Day of Atonement. I stay home most of the day, not doing much of anything.
Whenever I'm meeting up with my NY-based family, I get anxious over what to wear. I have plenty of work clothes, and even sufficient dress clothes. But my wardrobe is weakest in the category of casual, but not jeans-casual. Just about everyone in my family is fashion forward (my brother-in-law and his family are in the business). So I know everyone else will be wearing the perfectly accessorized, understated outfit. In the end, I put on a pair of leather pants (the only pants I own aside from jeans) and a white Simone Rocha top.
I leave for my sister's house in Long Island around 3:30, getting in a little after five.
By the time I arrive, many people are already there. Someone has proclaimed that it's now okay to break the fast. We are not a religious family.
Three of the "kids" are now married: Adam, Jason and Jessica. They have all chosen well — not only in their choice of spouses, but also in the families they come from.
This is the first year that Debra and Charles (Rachel's parents) have joined us, though it hardly feels that way. They are warm and engaging, and so easy to be with. I sit next to Charles and his genuine interest in film and my BAFTA involvement totally endears him to me.
Nina and Jay, Jessica's in-laws, are also present. And they too, feel like they've always been a part of the family.
In all, there are 15 of us, though another 11 or so are still missing. My family keeps expanding, and it makes our holidays that much more fun and interesting.
We are a very vocal family, and we don't always share the same point of view. But that's part of what makes getting together always so entertaining. And, there are some very witty, and very funny people among us.
It's a great night. Perfect except for the long, long ride home (so much traffic, even at 10 pm). Hewlett to NYC never felt so far.
(Oh, and why only a picture of a T-shirt? I decide to spare my family the agony of photographing them).
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