a stormy wedding (literally)

A couple of months ago I am making plans to travel back to the Cape for M's son's wedding. The first thing that goes wrong is the transportation. No trains back to New York.  Something about track maintenance. I am forced to reserve a Peter Pan bus. Ugh!

Then mid last week, I get my hair cut. I'm not paying attention and when I look up, my hair is about two inches shorter than I like. I hate it and want to cocoon for the next two months.

And then comes the forecast. 

The beautiful outdoor wedding, that has been meticulously planned over the past year, must now be logistically rethought. An unusual September Nor'easter is heading straight for the Cape.

I take a train up on Friday. I like trains. I have my Kindle, the day's paper, and the NYT puzzles. I settle in for the four-hour ride. And then I can't find my reading glasses. Somewhere between waiting for the train and boarding it I lose them. The only thing I can do is enlarge my Kindle font to about two sentences per page. It becomes a very very long ride.

V picks me up in Boston. We have lunch and then head to the Cape.  As soon as we go over the bridge, the rain starts. And then doesn't stop for three days.

Everyone is staying at Autocamp, in glammed up Airstreams. In the summer it'd be nice. In monsoon-like weather it is challenging.

The wedding is at Bourne Farm, just three miles away. We are being transported by busses. All the guests show up in the clubhouse covered in clear plastic ponchos and matching booties. 

I chose to wear rain and mud-resistant shoes that totally don't match my evening dress, but no one cares.

The weather continues.

I am not writing details about the magnificent wedding (not my story to tell) and the events around it. But I will say it was the most celebratory event I think I've ever attended. The love and affection among the many guests, some of whom had traveled great distances to attend (including California and China), was pervasive.

The ceremony is under a small tent, and we move to a much larger tent for the dinner and dancing. Fairy lights are everywhere and it truly is magical. 

But then a pole collapses from the torrential downpour. An announcement is made that we need to evacuate immediately and buses take us back to Autocamp where the festivities continue seamlessly.

On Sunday, V and I drive back to Boston where I catch the bus. The weather continues to be relentless. I love the sound of rain on the roof when sleeping in my Airstream. Though negotiating the big mud puddles outside my trailer door is less fun.

The dreaded bus ride home turns out to be great. A woman gets on in Hartford and sits next to me. We start talking about something inconsequential which leads to more conversation regarding our kids, husbands or lovers, politics, growing up, our parents, watch bands, cell phone carriers, theater and so much more. By the time we arrive in NY (which goes by quickly), we exchange info and hope to stay in touch.

The weather added drama to the weekend and subtracted nothing.  It's a wedding that will forever be remembered 

time on the cape

I think I have spent part of every summer on the Cape, starting in my first year of life. It's always been my second home.

I get back to NYC yesterday after six days at M's gorgeous house on the ocean. Aside from cloudy weather most days, and a 9.5-hour trip home (three buses, one cab, one train and one Lyft ride), it was an amazing trip, and already I miss so many things:

• Access to affordable lobster and lobster salad (from The Clam Man). I had it for three days.

• A perfectly designed and decorated house where there is a drawer or shelf or closet for everything.

• A backyard ocean to start and end each day.

• Salads made with a neighbor's home-grown tomatoes and dinners cooked on the grill.

• Long walks along the ocean and ending up in Woods Hole.

• Driving around aimlessly after dinner and finding a popular faux-truck that serves coffee and pastries, though we end up buying sleep shirts.

• Under $5 cinnamon buns at West Falmouth Market, the best I've ever had.

• Spending time with V and my sister (on different days), both of whom I see much less than I'd like.

• A resort-like pool and deck area to just lie around and read, eat and swim.

• Ice-cream from Lazy Sundae's.

• Reading the Wizard of Oz to M's adorable and wonderful grandson.

• The most perfect walk-in shower; oh how I wish I had that at home (and a laundry room too).

• I won't miss a house so large that misplacing my phone is easy and common. Though we do visit Nest and Feathers, a home goods store with the solution.

• Magnificent sunsets.

• But mostly, just hanging with M, who always makes life a lot more interesting and a ton more fun.

So what did I miss about New York? In the summer? Not a thing.

when it doesn't make sense

 I love the self-check-out kiosks that seem to be popping up everywhere.

Today I am at Agata, my local gourmet grocer, who recently installed four. 

The line for the human cashiers is always long, while there is usually no line for the self-checkout. 

Today, like most days, I see that only one is working. The others have signs that say, "Out of Order." I ask the manager why their new kiosks always seem to be not-working. "Oh, they work just fine. We just don't want people using them." This of course begs an obvious question.

Then she adds, "And we've gotten lots of complaints from customers who don't like them." This time I state the obvious, "Then don't use them."  If I select the white T-shirt over the blue one, should I complain to the salesperson that they shouldn't offer blue?

And then there are places like Sixteen Handles. I love their sorbet options (which I erroneously thought were a little bit healthy).

I select the cup size.

I chose the yogurt options.

I fill my container.

I add some toppings.

I wait in line (typically) while my yogurt begins to melt.

I pay. 

And then I am asked (either overtly on my credit card, or implicitly by the large jar labeled tips) if I want to add some extra money for what I always thought was service.

Really? A tip for what? Processing my payment? Or just because.

103!

I remember my two, very old-looking bubbies from childhood.

They were probably in their 80's but looked ancient, spoke no English, and  sat in their chairs all day. 

Rita is nothing like them.

Today we are celebrating her 103rd birthday. And, this isn't even her first celebration of the week. Rita has the energy and style of someone much younger, and is always up for getting together with her large and growing family (2 children, 5 grandkids and their spouses, and 11 wild and wonderful great-grandchildren). 

I meet Alexander at 10:30 for the train up to White Plains. Somehow I must have read the schedule wrong, and we end up having to change trains in Harlem and wait an extra 12 minutes (it could have been much worse). 

We arrive exactly on time. 

And like all our big family events, we attempt a memorable group photo. 

It's a large, boisterous group with a bunch of adorable kids (and still missing are Lily in California and Chloe and Isabel at camp).

My son (though reluctantly) even allows me to take a photo of him

It's a beautiful day for a beautiful woman.

She is well-deserving of the Birthday Queen crown she wears. She is our family royalty.

school hair

My sister recently gave me a folder of photos she found at my mom's house. Among them were some old school headshots and some that were professionally taken. 

I look at them and think, OMG. how NOT cute was I? 

My dad used to insist on cutting my bangs and some of our biggest fights had to do with my hair. "You are such a pretty girl," he would say. "But no one can see your face with your hair in your eyes." 

While I vehemently disagreed with him, and hated some of the bowl cuts he would give me (ala Moe of The Three Stooges fame), I look at the photos now and think, maybe he was right about my bangs.

The pre-school years:

Early school years:

The long-bang years:

High school graduation photo:

College yearbook:

And a year after college where I thought hair maybe mattered less (and I had a closet full of clothes not dominated by neutrals).

an unexpected afternoon

I win the Lottery.

Not the billion dollar one, the theater one. After trying for months, I finally get picked, Two, $30 tickets to see The Rocky Horror Picture Show today at 3pm.

I find out around 9:30am, and need to decide by 10.

• Susan has plans.
• Robin is in Saratoga seeing John Mulaney perform.
• Jill is at the Jersey shore.
• Shari has already seen it.
• Zelia lives in Connecticut now😢
• Linda is traveling somewhere in the world.
• Robyn is babysitting.
• And Alexander hates theater.

I buy the tickets anyway, then go on an app called Theatr. I post the tickets and they are sold within minutes.

I arrange to meet Madison at the box office. She is adorable. 23. Adventurous. Loves theater. And just recently moved here from — of all places — Anchorage.

Our $30 seats would have been $189. The Lottery is a great deal, if you can win.

And I did. And not just with the ticket. But by spending the afternoon with someone charming and new.

unusual activity

Like I did a few years ago, I'm applying for background work in various media.

I get an offer to do a commercial. And, they are offering a wardrobe voucher. Something I've never been offered before.

I speak to my friends who also do this kind of work, and they'd never gotten a wardrobe voucher either.  I have visions of walking into Bergdorf's and buying some great outfit.

A week or so before the shoot I get the voucher. 

$56 on Amazon. It covers both the top and pants. In a color I'd never buy. In a material I'd never buy. In a style I'd never buy.

I am waiting to hear from Amazon, with an email like ones I've gotten in the past from credit card companies that begin, "We've detected some unusual activity on your account....."

celebrating michael

My exceptionally wonderful nephew Michael is turning 40 and my sister and brother-in-law are hosting a small gathering. Just family at Val and Abbey's Country Club.

It doesn't happen often enough that our entire family gets together, and with everyone's schedule it's not easy. Michael and his family are in from California, and Jean and Jim drive up from the Cape. Yet we are still missing seven people (including four young kids). 

The seven kids who are here are all adorable, rambunctious and wild (three of them are two or almost two), and they follow their older cousins around with awe.

Alexander and I take the train up to Rye. We probably could have dressed more casually. (And after seeing these pictures, I may never where a scarf again).

Rita, the grand matriarch at almost 103, is present in every way. She has every reason to be proud of the family she's created.

My sister makes everything look effortless, but she never misses a single detail. 

Michael, like his brothers, is self-effacing. It therefore makes it kind of funny that his gorgeous face, at different stages of his life, is everywhere. In framed photos on the two tables. And on the cupcake desserts. He is even edible.

My three nephews are now all married and have families. 

They have always been warm, accomplished, funny and handsome. So it's not surprising that they married like-women. And fathered like-kids.

It's great to be able to celebrate Michael.

Because it has rained, the kids make the golf course their playground. We watch them naturally divide into two groups. The boys endlessly knocking each other over, while the girls practice cartwheels. 

It's the perfect end to the day.

disappointing outcome

A few weeks ago a good friend calls me. She's sees something on her boarding school newsletter that she thinks might interest me. A son is looking for someone to help his mom stay organized.

The mom, I'll call Mrs. Q, is a recently retired film and TV executive. She lives only a few blocks away. Is in good health. And needs someone to help organize her busy life, as she no longer has a personal assistant to do that for her.

Mrs. Q doesn't think she needs anyone to help out. Her two sons disagree. They are tired of unjamming the printer.

I'm a great organizer.  Mrs. Q has Apple products but needs help using them. I love Apple. I'm a good teacher. We share similar backgrounds. She lives less than a 15-minute walk away.  The pay is fair. The hours flexible. I apply. 

The first Zoom call occurs in early June with one son. A second Zoom calls happens soon after with both sons. I start to get excited. It seems like a perfect match. 

The next and final step is to meet Mrs. Q. The first meeting in late June gets cancelled as she isn't feeling well. It's rescheduled for the following week. That too gets rescheduled. She is still not feeling well. A third meeting gets scheduled for next week.

Then I get an email. It thanks me for my time, but says, in part: "Things have changed since we last spoke. We need to find someone who can do medical management, which will probably not be interesting to you. "

Hmmmm. I think the mom just doesn't want anyone. Or maybe it's something else. But whatever it really is I'll likely never know.

I'm getting tired of trying to question that keeps me up at night, "Now what?"

an ironic lost and found

Having thought I left my wallet at Agata (a local grocer where I shop most days), I go in, just as they are about to close, and ask.

"I don't think anyone's turned in a wallet today. But I'll check," says the manager.

He opens a cash register (used only by managers) and says, "This is where it'd be if we had it."

As he's rummaging around, I see something that looks exactly like my keys.

I bought this for the express reason that it would be hard to misplace, and easy to see in my purse.

"I think that's mine," I say, pointing to the pink fluffy set of keys. I doubt anyone else would have a key ring like that. And now that I think of it, I haven't seen mine in a while (I have several different types).

So the manager hands me the keys, but concludes that my wallet is not in the drawer.

I get home, open the door with my "new" keys, and see my wallet nearby. 

What are the odds that I would go to a store looking for something I thought I'd lost (but hadn't), and return with something else that I had lost (and didn't know it)?

so so hot

I don't think I can remember ever experiencing such hot weather in this otherwise amazing "concrete jungle" I call home.

My apartment is surprisingly comfortable, even without turning the AC on (except of course for sleeping).

But outside it literally feels just like a sauna, even when the sun's no longer present.

So here's what I haven't been doing:

• Walking more than a couple of blocks.
• Doing anything that involves outside activity.
• Swimming in the nearby, big city pool for fear of what might be in the water.
• Taking long strolls along the Esplanade at night,
• Going anywhere outside my neighborhood.

And here's what I have been doing.

• Watching good (The Wrecking Crew) and bad (but fun to watch) TV (The Worst Neighbor Ever).
• Reading (highly recommend Mad Mabel by Sally Hepworth).
• Imperfectly organizing  my long-sleeved shirts (though I'm guessing this won't last long).

• Being on the phone more than normal.
• Posting things I rarely wear on Poshmark.
• Seeing my friend Robyn who lives next door to watch a fantastic doc from 2017, Clive Davis: The Soundtrack of Our Lives. Such an extraordinary man.
• Starting random conversations with strangers; I like the solidarity but liked it better when it was about The Knicks.
• Reading the daily NYT and completing four of its games: Wordl, Connections, Spelling Bee (to Genius level), and the Crossword (regular and mini), But this I always do. Hey, don't want to break any streaks!

I'll take sub-freezing weather any day over the heat!