about those 2023 photos...

Every year I make a book of photos I've taken throughout the year. It's usually about 100 pages with captions.

I usually start around June or so as it's incredibly labor intensive and time consuming.

I use an app offered through Apple called Mimeo. I liked the ease of the iPhoto app better but that's no longer offered.

I don't use Mimeo's template, and instead customize the book.

I choose the photos I want to include and edit many of them. I select the layout for each page. I check the dates for captioning. I choose a font, color and size (that must be recreated on every page). I bet I spend close to 100 hours on the project. Or at least it feels like that.

I finally finish. Everything is checked and rechecked. I'm tired and happy to be done.

But then I notice that the book I've been creating is 8 1/2 by 11 and all my other books are 11 by 13. Not a problem. There's an option to click and change the size. When I do, I get this warning:

Okay, I can live with changing some of the format. And worst case, I can go back to my original.

So I proceed.

I click Continue

Next I see a book that is totally empty. The 11 by 13 book is presented with all blank pages. All my work has disappeared. I literally feel my body growing warm. But I can revert back. 

I go to hit the Undo button except it's greyed out.

Now I'm a complete mess.

But there must be a simple way to get my work back.

I contact Mimeo and begin a chat with Ashmir. He begins with:

I can barely speak. I am shaking. I go from lower case to upper case. I imagine Ashmir rolling his eyes. His response doesn't change.

Oh, but he does provide an insight buried on Mimeo's support page but not as a warning in the app itself:

No option here to even Undo.

I'm shaking.

Next I call Apple and many hours later (through something called Migration Assistant) I am able to recover most of the stuff I lost. Thank-goodness for my external drive.

I am relieved and manually recreate the book in a larger size, though I'm still kind of a mess just having to have gone through this all.

Still, the year ends nicely. My two same-named friends (Robyn and Robin) come over. 

We watch an awful film, The Royal Hotel. Pick up pizza and eat it with a salad (and wine) that Robyn brings and amazing Sedutto ice-cream that Robin brings.

It's a quiet end to the year, but a good one. We call it a night at 11:30. We can all watch the ball drop from the comfort of our beds.

Wishing you all a happy, healthy and joyous 2024.

a bit of culture

I adore NY.

Its energy. Its people. Its endless list of things to do.

Yet lately I've been enjoying doing a lot of nothing.

I like staying in. Having friends over. Watching movies (I'm a voting member of BAFTA so I have all 234 BAFTA-eligible films available to watch). 

For the past week and a half, I've been on vacation. And sure, I've seen the holiday decorations in midtown. Been to a couple of great restaurants (most notably The Supper Club, a newly opened restaurant that's a French Bakery by day).  Even ventured outside my UES neighborhood a few times (all within Manhattan though). 

But I'm feeling a bit guilty. I should be doing more outside my home. My apartment is overly organized, down to washing all my makeup brushes with some small inexpensive electric spinner I bought on Amazon a few years back). And my drawers and closets are all neatly arranged.

Jill is coming over later this afternoon to watch a movie. And while I'd prefer to do more stay-at-home-stuff today (I can always find something to do), I force myself to do something cultural.

I walk to the Jewish Museum on upper Fifth to see the Chloé exhibit. it's 55 degrees out and jackets are optional — certainly not the December-weather I like.

I'm glad I go. Some of the clothes on display from decades ago would still be fashionable today. It was an Egyptian-born Jewish women (Gaby Aghion) who started Chloé in the early 50's in Paris.

She chose the name because she liked the sound of it (she had a friend with that name), and also liked its curved, feminine letters.

Learning something new makes it worth the trip. I guess.

Though if I had stayed home, I would have completed organizing all my 2023 photos in an Apple photo book.

really, madam post office worker

Every couple of weeks or so I go to my local Post Office to mail off a few packages for work. 

I was there recently and also needed to mail a simple letter. You know. The kind that goes in a regular envelope with a stamp on it. Something I rarely do anymore.

I go up to the window with my seven small work packages that need to be weighed. The I-hate-people and I can't wait to retire (I know this because she tells me) post office worker leisurely weighs each package and I electronically sign something that says these packages contain no liquid or hazardous materials. All good so far.

Next I hand her a regular letter, already stamped, to put in the bin behind her. "You can mail this over there," she says, pointing to a large mailbox near the front of the Post Office.

"Can't you take it?" I ask. Not quite understanding.

"No," she responds. "I can't be responsible."

HUH?!!!

She goes on to qualify. "I can't be held responsible if the letter doesn't arrive."

I can't imagine a scenario where I'd go back to the PO. Remember the person that took my letter. Then say to them, "Hey. It's your fault. I was here a few weeks ago and my friend never received the letter I sent her. You took it, so I'm holding you liable."

Ridiculous.

I mean after all, I am simply trying to mail a letter at the friggin' Post Office.

Imagine if everyone had this work ethic.

Would the deli guy not make my sandwich for fear of my blaming him if the cheese gave me a stomachache?

Would my building's handyman not change my ceiling lightbulb for fear his family would blame me if, in the very unlikely event, he got electrocuted?

And what about the very nice man who delivers my mail six days a week? Maybe he should stop delivering it altogether because I might blame him if my Jenni Kayne catalogue doesn't arrive.

Most of my mail I do electronically. I just wish it were all of it.

my new skin

Ten years ago I buy three discounted body scrubs at a place called Tribeca Spa of Tranquility. Today I use the second one.

Amazing that A, this place is still open. B, they still have my records showing my pre-purchase. And C, that they honor it without question. Truly incredible, I think.

This treatment is now $129 (I think I paid $50) and is described as:

"An invigorating authentic Korean technique that exfoliates the skin and increases circulation."

The place is not luxurious. It is basic, but clean. And you shouldn't go unless you are comfortable being totally naked as every part of your outer body is meticulously cleaned and scrubbed. 

Upon arrival, I am given a small locker, a robe, and a pair of disposable underpants which are superfluous. Suzanne comes and gets me and brings me to the lower level. We enter an unadorned room with a table, a hose, and a barrel of water. My first thought is waterboarding. Fortuately, I am able to quickly dispel of this thought.

I lie down, my eyes are covered, and deliciously hot water is poured over my body.

Suzanne uses something like a loofah, and vigorously scrubs up and down, back and forth, again and again, until every last dead skin cell has been washed away. 

When she's done, my skin feels polished and smooth. It's as if, literally, my existing dry and flaky skin has been replaced with something new and shiny.

I hope this lasts awhile. I'd forgotten how good it feels to be wearing skin you like.

tis the season

Today I get to spend time with two people I truly adore, and don't see often enough.

I met Terri the same summer I met Eric. 1989. Together we've gone through a lot. Both of us have raised sons by ourselves. And both us have many wild stories to tell. 

A few years ago Terri moved to Florida but we still remain close friends. When we speak or see each other, we pick right up with no time lost. We both know we'll always be in each others' lives regardless of geography.

A couple of hours over bagels and lox goes by too quickly. And I love that within minutes of her arriving we are deep in perssonal stories, the good and the bad, with no filters on either. 

Later, I meet up with Lisa on the steps of St. Patrick's. 

The city is chaotic.

Since we are right there. I stop by Saks, a place I haven't been in since leaving four years ago. Two close co-workers are working, and it's a nice mini-reunion. I don't miss the place, but do miss a few of the people.

Lisa and I hang out in the rooftop Ski Lodge.. yup, upstairs at Saks. It feels nothing like the big deaprtment store one floor down. From there, we get a decent view of The Tree and the skaters beneath.

We end up having dinner at Madison and Vine. 

Then home through a still-busy Grand Central, close to 11pm.

And back to my quiet UES street, just minutes from the pulse of the city.

oh wow, love this!

Every now in then I write about some products I really really like. 

Given that it's the holiday season, I thought I'd write about some recent purchases that are worthy of a strong endorsement. They'd all make for great gifts... either to your self or someone else.

These Alicia Adams throws are great, and normally are priced much higher.

I love the feel and look. M and I fell in love with these a few years ago at some Design Show in NY. 

Ok,this may not be a great gift, but worth getting if you hate having a million trillion cable wires hanging out under your desk.

The Yamazaki site is full of great organizing things...if you are obsessed with organizing (like I am).

And maybe you know of these sweaters. I'm generally a cashmere-snob, but these are really great quality and right now pretty affortable. I bought Alexander a luxe cashmere hoodie that was so nice, I bought myself a cropped hoodie.

And then I think this thing is great if you want to charge your iphone and Apple watch at the same time For some reason I've had a problem charging my AirPods, but still love the sleekness and simplicity.

I've bought several on this site Twelve South and have never been disappointed.

Everyone probably already knows about Bombas socks, but just in case...these are the only ones I wear now; I threw all my others out. I like the ankle length. In fact, the colors are so great I want to buy socks even when I don't need them.

And finally, I have a collection of insulated mugs and these are my favorites:

This Contigo for keeping cold drinks cold...over 24 hours, at least.

And the Zojirushi Stainless Steel Mug for kepping drinks hot. I made boiling tea around 4pm and the next morning I burned my tongue on it. And...as confirmation... I just now read that the NYT rated it the best travel mug. "After a decade of testing travel mugs, we still recommend the Zojirushi Stainless Steel Mug for most people. It keeps drinks hot for hours, and its locking lid stays securely closed, even when you toss the mug into a bag."

Let me know if you try (or have) any of these. I'd love knowing. 

(Also, for those of you who do write comments on this blog, please say who you are as most come up — rather strangely — as Anonymous. Thanks.)

Addendum:

How could I have forgotten this from my list? While at M's this summer, I  became enamored with her colorful vinyl placemats. In the past, I've tried all sorts of expensive placemats that ... while beautifull initially... inevitably became embedded with food stains. These mats are inexpensive, fun, and most important, easy to keep clean.

thanksgiving unraveled

Two weeks ago today I wake up with a sore throat, stuffy nose and horrible cough. I go to Urgent Care where I'm told my vitals are excellent and I definitely don't have COVID. Weird to feel so awful and be told I'm so healthy.

So now it's Thanksgiving, and while I still have a bad cough, I otherwise feel fine.

The plan is to go to my nephew Adam's house. It'll be a large group, though we'll still be missing Sally, my niece who lives in Barcelona. Jason and his family of five, who will be in Florida. And Michael who will be with Dom in LA. Not the whole crew, but as our family grows, it gets harder and harder for us all to be together.

Alexander arrives home yesterday. My mom, sister Jean, her husband Jim and son Jack are all set to drive up from the Cape. This is my favorite holiday. Eating. Family. Socializing. No religious traditions. And what always is a lot of fun. My family is fun.

Yesterday I go downtown to get my hair highlighted with the amazing Mai. I'm sitting in the chair loaded up with aluminum.

My phone rings. It's my sister Valerie. And this is what happens in that short phone call.

• I learn that four-year old Henry has RSV.
• Two-year-old Charlotte has a bad cold.
• Adam and Rachel can no longer host as both their kids are sick. (They have already prepared for a big group, including two turkeys, a set table, flowers, etc.).
• Jack is sick so the whole Massachusetts contingency is now not coming.
• Valerie and Abbey are able to get a reservation at their Country Club through some last- minute miracle.
• Valerie hears my raspy voice and I tell her about my lingering cough. She's concerned that if I come to the Club I could inadvertently expose 100-year-old Rita to my bad cough/cold and I agree; I don't want to do that. But Alexander is still welcome.

UGH!!!!!'

I call Alexander and in a rare display of solidarity my son opts to stay home with me.

We are all disheartened. Everyone's favorite holiday has just unraveled.

But then I think...

While disappointing, we are still all so blessed. Everyone's healthy. My family will celebrate another time. I have many incredible friends. I live in an amazing city in an amazing country, even with all its flaws. I am working. I have plenty of food in the fridge. I have a digital library of almost 200 current films to watch (I vote in the British Academy Award-equivalent and get all the latest movies this time of year). Am my son is home.

And Mai always does the best job!

Oh and did I mention? My son is home.

I have much to be grateful for. Happy Thanksgiving.

a becoming 100

A few months back Jane Fonda was on the cover of People. The headline read, "Life Gets Better with Age."

Nice sentiment but not one I agree with.

But yet, there are those in my life (aside from my mom) who have managed to age with such grace, that for them, it might be true.

Rita, my sister's mother-in-law (and Abbey and Jill's mom), turned 100 on August 8. 

It's hard to imagine living that many years and not having anyone be able to say a negative thing about you.

Rita is lovely. She is considerate, thoughtful, interested and interesting, and the kind of person we should all aspire to be.

And she still has so many friends that instead of having just one party to celebrate her, she had to have two.

Both were given by Valerie and Jill. The first at a country club near Rye; the second at a country club in Long Island, where Rita has a zillion friends she's made over the years from her many days of golfing, card-playing, and socializing.

When Rita turned 90, my sister and Jill threw a great party for her, and I took the photos. I later made it into a book, that still, 10 years later, Rita tells me how much she loves it and how often she views it.

So it's only fitting that I should do the same for her 100th.

Here are just a few from Party #1.

And then Party #2 a couple of days later. Not too much for this energetic 100-year old women.

would you live here?

 Imagine you are looking at apartments, and your broker takes you here.

I know what my response would be. "Are you friggin' crazy? Show me something else!"

Well, this is where I live. An absolute sh-t show!

For starters, this is the third time in 8 years that I've had a sidewalk shed level with my apartment. That's what they call these monstrosities that are erected when work is being done on the front of a building. It's to protect the passing pedestrians.

The first time I was introduced to this structure was in February 2015. 

The work was finished in early January, 2016. The shed finally came down in mid-May. Yes, for five long months it just stayed up for no reason.

I had little light, zero privacy, and no street view in both my bedrooms and living room. My entire apartment is on the second floor facing north. It was an awful 15 months.

Then, in early August of 2020, it happened again. This time it was from a neighboring building, but the law requires that the shed be extended an extra 20 feet. Knowing what was coming made me almost want to cry. 

Again, my living room was blocked off from the street. This lasted 17 months. It was taken down in late December 2021.

So what is that? 32 months, or almost 3 years, of having no street view, no privacy, an ugly eye-sore to look at 24/7, compromised light, drilling and other loud noises beginning early morning, dirty windows all the time, and dust in my apartment that even shut windows can't keep out. Three years out of six. And zero give on rent (in fact, the opposite), or any other concessions from my landlord.

 

And now, it's happening again. In August another shed went up. Here's my current view.

This time I did cry. 

Thankfully the laws have changed and at least now mesh is used instead of opaque wood so at least I don't feel quite as caged in and claustrophobic.

But still. It's horrible.

And even worse, asbestos was found.

If only I could afford to move.

One of my biggest regrets is never having bought.

At this stage in my life, my only hope of that ever happening is winning the lottery. And well, the odds are just not in my favor.

a small miracle: my mom's incredible recovery

I go up to the Cape in early July, planning to work from there for a few weeks. Instead, I'm back in NY in a few days.

My mom's cough is horrid, and she has zero energy. She is clearly not up to having any guests.

Within two days of my leaving, she's in Falmouth Hospital as her oxygen level has dropped to a troublingly low level. While there, tests are conducted and she is diagnosed with pneumonia. But on one of the scans, the doctors identify a suspicious-looking thing that they have serious concerns about. My sisters and I do too. My mother less so.

The doctors want my mom to go to Boston for an invasive biopsy. My mom refuses. She says she is fine. My sisters and I disagree, but let my mother decide. She does, and doesn't go.

About a week later, my mom comes home from the hospital, and every day feels stronger. Her oxygen level improves. Her color comes back. The pneumonia ends. The coughing is majorly reduced. Her high energy level is back. And most importantly, a PET scan shows that the  suspicious-looking thing is nowhere to be found.

Soon after coming home from the hospital, my mom is making the rounds in her golf cart, along with M and my mom's friend and aide, the saintly Maria.

On September 26, my mom celebrates 94 years of great living. She still has a long way to go.

 My mom with Ellie and her granddaughter Sally, August 29.

here I am again

It's been a while. But lately I've been feeling like writing, not that I have so much to say.

First, let's get into my face. Last I wrote I was recovering from a bad fall. And looking at the photos taken in January, I can't say there's been much progress.

I think this is it (sure, I know, a bit of make-up would have helped,).

My nose is still larger than it was, and I'm doubtful that there's any more swelling to go down. Plus, I really don't like that scar on the outside of my lip, on the top right (left in the photo). I can also feel the bump inside. And, it ruins my lipline. 

But insurance likely won't cover either to be corrected. And my friends assure me that they can barely see the difference. And, would I even want to take the chance on facial surgery? Yes, if I could get an entire facelift (that I would do in a heartbeat).  But since that's not going to happen, I'll probably do nothing.

I plan to write more about a few things that have gone on in the past few months, but don't want to make this entry too long in fear that you all have lost interest in this basically-about-nothing blog, and won't read it.

In short, though:

I'm still working full-time.

Alexander is still living in Austin.

The world is falling apart. Israel and Gaza are at war. Antisemitism is rising everywhere. Democrats and Republics can't get along. Trump is again running for President and even has a shot at winning. And then just the other day, 18 innocent people were gunned down in a mass shooting in Maine. Maine, of all places. We're not safe anywhere.

But I still love NYC (despite it getting dirtier and more dangerous). 

And I still love this country (even with all its problems, and there are many).

And I still love a beautiful fall today, though today is not quite that.

almost normal

Fours weeks tomorrow. That's all it's been. And already I am starting to feel like me again.

On Thursday, Dr. Jacoby took off my nose splint and bandages.

He told me it'll take months for the swelling in my nose to subside, but that in time, it will. He is very pleased with how straight my nose is, as closed reduction surgery does not guarantee this. 

The bones in the nose are small, and when they break, it's like an egg shell. So what's really amazing is that after three to four weeks, the bones are pretty much set. It's only been a little over two weeks since my surgery, so the bones are not entirely solid yet, but well on their way.

I still have a lot of redness and my nose looks huge and the scarring from the stitches, while not horrible, is still visible. 

And my lips are taking forever to heal. I have a lot of scarring on top where the stitches were. It also feels really tight, and I still can't pucker my lips (you know, for all those sexy Tik Tok videos I like to make), nor can I yet drink from a straw. And inside my lip, where more stitches were, it feels like a big bump (that I hope will go down over the next few months).

But still, all that being true, I leave the doctor's office on Thursday feeling really good.

Finally, I can wash my hair without a towel over my face!

I realize this weekend that it's been four weeks since I've left my neighborhood. Friends have come over, and I've certainly left my house, but I've stuck close to home. No busses. No subways. No venturing out. No make-up. No meals out. No movies. No plays. Nothing.

And while I still have a long way to go, I've come far in just four weeks. And for that, I am deeply grateful

Here I am, cleaned up, as best they could, at the ER on December 19 (pre-stitches):

The next morning:

And today (with some make-up help to minimize the red above my lip and on my nose):

I meet Susan and Jill for brunch. They tell me that had they not known, they wouldn't have noticed I look any different.

But the best compliment? Even though an implicit one —

my iPhone Face ID finally recognizes me!

three weeks out

Today is three weeks since my accident. I've had a lot of time to reflect in that time.

About the accident itself...

I didn't exactly walk straight into the metal pole. I was walking fast, facing toward the street, and I turned to the right and my face smashed straight into a tall metal pole that was in the middle of the sidewalk, supporting one of those annoying sidewalk sheds. It consoles me somewhat to realize I didn't just walk straight into a pole.

On Thursday, December 29, I had the closed nasal reduction surgery.

The AJ on my head is for Adam Jacoby, my doctor.

I was so ready for the surgery. (By the way, in looking at this photo now, my nose does look very crooked. Funny how I didn't see it before).

When I woke up, My doctor said, "I was able to straighten your nose and septum, so you'll likely need no more surgery. And I took the stitches out of your lips, so they should start to heal."

But...

New stitches were added inside my nose, to hold in place the stents that were added for a week.

I was in and out of the hospital in less time than when I was in the ER. 

I left feeling great.

But by Saturday I was miserable. I slept all that day and the next.

It wasn't really painful (I didn't take the oxycodone that was prescribed...I am afraid of anything that starts with the letters OXY). 

It was just extremely uncomfortable.

In short, my entire face hurt. Not significantly, but enough to notice.

My lips were still a mess.

My nose had filled up with mucous and other really undesirable gunk, and I had to let it just sit there and accumulate, as I couldn't blow my nose.

The stitches were sharp and hurt (more like an annoying hurt, but a constant one).

My face swelled.

And even wearing glasses was painful so reading was tough.

I had an awful, unrelenting headache that wouldn't stop, as my head filled with stuff that shouldn't be there.

And, I couldn't wash my hair cause I can't get the splint on my nose wet.

I just slept for two days, wishing time to pass.

On January 5th, last Thursday, the stitches in my nose came out. 

Getting them out (and I don't think I'm exaggerating), hurt more than childbirth. But once they were out, life was good again.

The doctor changed the bandages and was very pleased with my fixed nose. "It's straight," he announced, which of course is good news. 

I looked at it and just saw a huge nose that I didn't have before. He had warned me that it sometimes can take months for the nose to lose all its swelling after surgery. But it only should take about three weeks for the bones to heal.

The splint stays on my nose for probably another two weeks.

My energy is back.

My lip is still swollen but getting better.

Eating and drinking is improving every day.

And I am hopeful that the worst is behind me.

This is certainly not one of my better pictures, but it is a healing one.