wish I had a better ending

I have tickets to see a play tonight with Susan, Alice by Heart.

We are both members of MCC Theater — that's how we ended up with these tickets. But we are both underwhelmed with the premise — a musical that takes place in a bunker during the London Blitz, with all sorts of Alice in Wonderland references.

So we decide to skip the show, skip dinner, and both stay home and do nothing. I love days like this.

A whole day free. No plans.

I read some.

Catch up on calls.

Play Canasta online (I've become a  a Canasta Junction junkie).

And organize.

While doing the latter, I come across an old photo album, and in it, a fuzzy photo of a cute classmate from college.

I wonder what became of him. So I do some Google research.

John is easy to find. He's still handsome, lives in NJ, and is an accomplished musician.

 I Google more.

I even watch some videos of John singing and playing piano. I had no idea in college just how talented he was. I feel I know him all over again.

He is married. Lives nearby. And has children.

I become so engrossed in the life of this old college dorm mate that I decide to contact him. I find his FB page and write:

John- I hope you get this and maybe even remember me. We lived in the 

same dorm (Miller, I think) at Tufts and I was friendly with you and Steve Sayer. 

I came across your picture, then googled you. You look incredible, 

and congrats on a successful career in music. Thought you'd enjoy the photo...

you look pretty much as I remember you, except for the hair color! 

I hope to hear back from him but have no expectations.

But then today, I awake to this:

Lyn, of course I remember you. I googled you and see that you haven't changed 

much either. I've been single for a few years now (lest you get the wrong 

idea about me) and would love to catch up in person. Would it be okay to call?

Such a great ending (beginning?) to this little story. 

Except that's not what happened.

This morning I do get a response from John. This is what it really says:

Lyn, thank you for the kind words. Apparently there is another 

John Korba that I am not aware of because I never attended Tufts, 

and alas this is not me. 🖖

lost friend

A few days ago was my friend's birthday. 

Growing up, Ashley was my BFF. Ashley is not her real name —though she'd probably find this funny as she is the antithesis of anyone named Ashley. 

We did everything together. Sharing teen-age girl-secrets, laughing hysterically all the time, and having endless conversations about boys, sex, family, and everything in-between.

We even celebrated our sweet sixteen parties together, where we both wore colorful tent-shaped dresses that were in style at the time. I wore a yellow bow in my hair; I doubt Ashley did.

Ashley and I were even roommates in college for a year before we both transferred.

Most of my daring behavior was with Ashley.  

We ran around a golf course nude one night in high school (with two guys, no less)  just because.

We sampled some vermouth from a home where we were babysitting.

We hitchhiked with skis.

We deserted a guy we were staying with and crossed the Kancamagus Highway in NH one dark night to stay with other guys we had met recently.

And we did other things too outrageous to write about.

We stayed good friends through the years, long after college, marriage (mine briefly and hers enduring), children (we both have one), and geography.

I loved Ashley; I still do. 

In 2011, my family invited a couple of friends of mine to come to NY to surprise me for my birthday. For no reason but forgetfulness perhaps, they didn't include Ashley. And although I knew nothing about the planning, I know she was hurt, as I would have been. I think that our relationship started to cool then.

In 2013, my dad died, And though she came to the funeral, we spoke only briefly.

In 2015 our relationship just seemed to stop. 

I believe her daughter was Bat Mitzvahed that year and I was not invited.

In 2016 —on her birthday — I wrote something on her FB wall that I thought was personal (well, as personal as one can get posting on a FB wall).  For my birthday, her post was pretty generic.

This year, I again wrote something on FB and included four photos from our past. For that I did get a FB like, same as everyone else who acknowledged her birthday.

I know I could call. Or write to her directly. But I'm too cowardly. I am too demoralized by my day-job to take on anything that could be upsetting.

Ashley and I share such a rich history.  I still hope there's room for a shared future.

multi-year makeover

I wish I could afford a decorator and have my entire apartment re-done to perfection. But  that will never happen. So instead, I am doing it slowly, step by step, inch by inch, year by year. Starting with the living room.

I begin in June 2017. 

I buy the all-white Margot table from Dune Furniture. I first saw this table at ABC in 2009 and wish I had bought it then, when it cost a lot less than it does now.  

I then spend another six months before finding the right Annie chairs from Calligaris. I give my round blue Oriental rug underneath the table to my mom, and spend another five months before finding, and purchasing, a new rug at Homenature (my favorite furniture store).

The Lazy Point sectional sofa and pillows that I later buy from Homenature don't arrive until July 2018, though I fell in love with the sofa a full year before.

I am also slowing framing photos I took of the four seasons in Central Park. So far, I've only framed Winter (in December 2017) and Summer (a year later), and love them both.

When I start re-doing the big stuff, the eyesores stand out more prominently — like an ugly water cooler and my in-house intercom. So I replace both of those, and the new ones make me happy (it doesn't take much).

I eventually still need a new chair, coffee table, lamp shade, reading lamp, big plant, rug and color —lots of it — so that my living room doesn't look too clinical.

I imagine it could take many more years to finish. And then there's my room and my son's room — my son who doesn't live here anymore though much of his stuff still does.

But doing a re-do in stages has its upside:  it makes me appreciate each new piece all the more.

does it really make a difference?

I was surprised to hear (on TV, I think) that the average woman uses about 16 products on her face every day. That sounds like a ridiculously high number, so I count.

On a day when I have no plans, I wear only lipstick and maybe a little concealer. But on a workday, for instance, I use more.

Before I put a drop of makeup on my face, there's the prep.

A vitamin C Serum that I bought from my dermatologist and love.

La Mer, which I'm not sure is worth the money, but I'm afraid to stop using.

La Mer eye balm.

And a face brightening product by Burberry called Fresh Glow that I love.

That's 4 products before a drop of make-up goes on my face.

Next, I usually use a BB or CC Cream.

Then my favorite 3-in-1 renewal eye therapy from ColorScience, mixed with my must-have By Terry's Densiliss Concealer.

I dot my face here and there with a great little product called Uncover by RMS to hide any noticeable skin discoloration or redness.

And then put on a shadow primer (Urban Decay).

I'm up to 9 products.

My favorite two shadows are by Ellis Faas, numbers 109 (neutral) and 116 (pale lilac). I usually use only the neutral. Then I'll draw some kind of line using a dark-colored Urban Decay eye pencil and finally, I'll add mascara (which I don't really like to wear as I don't  like the process of removing it at the end of the day)

So that's 12 products.

Then there's the blush. I like a cream or liquid blush best, and switch them out. My most recent favorite is Giorgio Armani's Fluid Sheer. 

Most days I'll add a dusting of By Terry's sheer dual-powder.

And finally, a base lipstick and my new favorite: By Terry's gloss-like, easy to use crayon.

All are inexpertly applied with my beloved (need-to-be-cleaned) Artis brushes (#4, #6, and #7).

16 products (at a minimum, and not including the additional ones I use at night).

The other day I had to run into work. I bump into Jon, a fellow associate. "I'm only here for a minute," I say. I hadn't planned on going in and my face is bare. "Don't look at me," I tell him. "I have on no make-up." 

Jon looks at me surprised and says, "I didn't even know you wore make-up."

Does that mean that I am such an expert make-up artist that I daily create a gorgeous, natural look? 

Or, does it mean that I apply my makeup so badly the result is no different than when I wear none?

I won't venture a guess.

bad beginning, great everything else

My very good friend M arrives late Tuesday afternoon. She drives up to my apartment to drop off her bags.

"I lost my earring. The good one."

She has many good ones. These particular good ones are white gold hoops.

M leaves her small bag with me to bring upstairs and goes to park at the exact same garage she uses every time she visits. And, she always uses the same car when she drives to NY. This time the attendant won't let her in. "Sorry. Your car is too big." Huh?! It wasn't the last five times she was here.

Anyway... M finds another garage around the corner. Much nicer people there. She parks and goes to the Chase ATM on the corner.

She requests $300. Is debited $300. And receives $200. This takes a full day and multiple calls to resolve.

By the time M gets to my apartment, she's not happy (though she does find her earring on the street near her car).  She sets up her iPad to check mail. None. None on her phone either.  This becomes a two-day affair with Apple to resolve.

Me? I only have one issue. I can't find my TV remote. I check everywhere and it's gone. How can one possibly lose a remote in a small apartment? 

Thankfully M's bad beginning is not indicative of the rest of her visit.

Two amazing dinners:  one at Yefsi (great Greek food near my apartment) and one in the West Village with Josie — an exceptional small Italian restaurant.

An okay play (Bryan Cranston is astonishing in Network though the rest of the play is slightly better than average, and at two hours, definitely needs an intermission). 



A trip to Homenature to look at chairs. It takes me forever to find the exact right piece of furniture but I'm close.

And just hanging out.

As always, M's the perfect guest and her time here is always too short.

This morning she leaves. 

As we are loading up M's car, I see a Spectrum truck. Okay, I'll ask, expecting no results and more frustration.

"I lost my remote and was wondering if you had an extra one?"

The driver goes to the back of his truck. Opens it. Takes out a brand new remote. Programs it to my Samsung TV. And hands it back to me. I'm in love.

Really, what are the chances!