new year's eve 2017

It's frigid out. 10 degrees. I do really love this weather. it makes staying in so cozy.

I leave work and stop at Agata to pick up the things I've ordered for dinner.

Yesterday I had planned to make a French Apple tart, having already purchased the required frozen puff pastry sheets. I am putting 8 large apples into my basket when I start to think about peeling and slicing them. That's a lot of work. And besides, I did already bake cookies. I buy an apple pie instead. So much easier and probably just as good.

There are only five of us, so I may have over-ordered. But I'd much rather have too much food than too little. I get sandwiches, shrimp, a fruit bowl, a cheese platter, crackers, guacamole and rainbow chips. Easy, informal and good. Just like my friends who are coming.



At 8:30 everyone arrives hungry and we toast the new year. I, of course, want a picture or two but no one except me and Linda wants to be in it. So we find a compromise. 





The food is great. So is the conversation.  And just hanging at home with some of my favorite people is really nice. Desserts  and drink keep us at the table longer.



And soon it's 10:30. 

With some trepidation I pose the question, "Do you all feel like watching a movie now, or would you rather just skip it?"

We all think alike. Within a half hour everyone's gone.

Exactly the kind of New Year's Eve I love most. 

Eating. Drinking. Spending time with friends. And never leaving home.

Happy 2018 everyone. 

perfect day at work

So if I write about the bad (which I do), it's only fair that I write about the good as well.

A couple of weeks ago I email Marlon (my boss) and ask to leave early on New Year's Eve. The store closes at 7 and I'm having friends over for dinner and a movie. 

He responds, 

"Leaving early will be based on business as we will be in the beginning of Final Sale. 

I won't be able to approve that until the day of."

Okay, I think, that's fair. If it's really busy I won't want to leave anyway, and besides, I doubt it'll be busy on New Year's Eve day.

But it turns out I'm wrong. 

A bad day usually means few customers. 

A bad and frustrating day is many customers but who buy little.

A horrible day is few customers who buy little and lots of returns.

Today is an amazing day. 

Lots of customers who buy lots of things.  Many foreign tourists who won't be returning anything. And everyone nice and appreciative and in the holiday spirit.

It's a lucky day too; good days usually are. 

There are several customers who ask:

"Where can I try these on?" Their arms are laden with clothes, and they answer no one to the question, "Is anyone already helping you?"

Or even better: The woman who asks, "Where can I pay for this?" and hands me a $900 coat, and no one is helping her.

At 5:30 I am ready to leave.  

But there are still too many people shopping. So I stay another 45 minutes, and sell another $4,300 of merchandise. 

If every day were like today, I would love my job. 

I leave at 6:15, having sold what I would in a good week.

It's a nice way to end 2017. 

Now I have to hope that nothing comes back.

hair in under 4 minutes

The Dyson hairdryer was launched in September 2016, and I wanted one.

First, I loved its aesthetics.

But more importantly, every review was incredible. Fast. Easy. And Quiet. But the price tag was just too high.

I tried to justify buying it.

I'd use it two or three times a week.

I hate blow-drying my hair and usually give up after 10 minutes. My arms get tired.

But in the end,  I couldn't sell myself.  $400 is too much money for a miracle hairdryer.

But then something happened.

Every December employees are offered a big discount on cosmetics. The promotion runs for seven days, and that's when I stock up on moisturizers, undereye creams, and Molton Brown body washes (these make the best bubble baths). On the very last day of the promotion, a couple of employees come in and ask, "Can you tell me where the Dyson Hair Dryers are?"

What?! How could I have missed this? I had no idea we even carried them.  So I go on a search, and learn — they were available on the first floor, but of course are now all sold out.

But I'm resourceful.

I find an associate who knows the barcode and can locate it for me at another store. I order one and pay $204, before tax.

So is it worth it?  I think so.

Maybe next time I'll use a brush instead of just myfingers.  But still, not too too shabby for four minutes.



And I just need to say,  selfies are really for people under 30. 

an admitted tracker

I like numbers. 

And statistics. 

And knowing how many of whatever I've done. 

It's pretty much a ridiculous waste of time. Yet I find myself unable to break this decades-old habit.

I can tell you how many books I've read in a year, and what they are (40).

The number of movies I've seen (49 this year).

What plays I've attended (26, exactly the same as the past two years).

The current balance on my credit cards at any given time (I basically use only two: Amex and Saks).

My weight. It's been the same (+/- 3 pounds) for the past 7 years (I note it on a calendar every Wednesday).

How many steps I take in a week (between 70 and 85,000).

I keep multiple lists of things to do, exhibits to see (although too many of them get crossed off the list unseen), and TV series to one-day watch (I still need to see Homeland from last season).

Most of these numbers have a neutral affect on me, except for one.

I track my sales and returns, by week. The last four weeks of the year should be the best. Last year they were; this year they're not. 

My gross saless are down by 3%, not horrible but they should be up. But my returns are disastrous.  For the past four weeks, even before christmas, my returns are double what they were last year (31.5% vs. 16.1%). So a third of what I sell comes back. And with it goes a third of my paycheck.

I control everything else that I track. 

I can always read another book. See another movie. Go to another play. Consume fewer calories. Or walk more steps. But I can't make every purchase a final one. If only I could.

xmas day

Since 2008, every Christmas I invite friends over to watch some movies.

Where my friend M and my two sisters can easily entertain a group of 20, I stress over a handful of friends coming over to eat junk food. I've never been at ease in a kitchen.

Alexander is not interested in "sitting around with old people" when I invite him to join us. 



So he leaves for a friend's house as soon as the first guest arrives.

While I supply candy, popcorn, chocolate-covered pretzels and water, my friends arrive with the good stuff.  And lots of it. A fruit bowl. Homemade chocolate chip cookies (I never even take mine out of the freezer). A fruit bowl. Biscotti. Prosciutto. Hummus. Soppressata. Olive bread. Baguettes. Various kinds of hard and soft cheeses. Homemade brownies. Seasoned breadsticks. Prosecco and wine.  

Before starting the first movie, I ask Stew, Shari's husband, to take a photo of the girls. It's too bad the flash isn't set to go off.

l to r: Jill, Shari, Carol, Robin and me

I start Molly's Game,  then take out my phone to google the instruction manual for my six-year-old phone.  About 20-minutes into my search, something goes wrong with the DVD: we can hear the movie; we just can't see it. The TV screen says something about a lost connection. Ugh. I have no idea what that means and no idea how to fix it. 

About 15 minutes of fiddling with the millions of cables and wires, the picture finally comes back on. The movie is long, and before it ends, Linda arrives to see the second movie, I, Tonya.

 I ask Stew to take another picture, this one including both Linda and use of the flash.



The last movie we watch is Call Me By Your Name. It builds slowly to a beautiful and heartbreaking end.

I love spending Christmas this way. With good friends, good food, and good movies. 

But two is enough. Movies that is, not friends. You can never have too many of those.

xmas eve

I  wear a sheer, tulle Simone Rocha dress to work, in celebration of the season. I pair it with a long black Wolford top and black leggings.

I get to work and decide I don't like the look. Leather pants or a full-length black slip would have been better. My honest co-workers agree. But some less discerning customers are complimentary. 

Within an hour, my leggings (which I am wearing for the first time) split in the seam. An unstated perk of my job is the magical Alterations department. I go there asking for a safety pin. Instead I'm told, "Take off your pants; it won't take long for us to sew that up for you." And within ten minutes, my pants look like new.

The store is quiet, yet I do surprisingly well.  All my customers, with no exceptions, are appreciative, kind, and in the spirit of the holiday. Not even one messy room.

I leave work around 6:30 and call for a Via.  Miraculously it's only a three-minute wait. I just need to walk two blocks to Fifth and 52nd. The crowds outside are wild. Barricades at every corner. Police everywhere. Streets blocked off. People with cameras holding up pedestrian traffic. I wonder if the tourists think New York is always like this. 

Finally, I get to my Via. He needs to go nine blocks in the opposite direction of where I'm heading before he can turn. My fifteen minute ride is tripled. 

I get home at around the same time Alexander's bus arrives from Philadelphia. My son is coming home for Christmas which makes me very happy.

Together we eat a big sushi dinner before he runs out to see a friend. But tonight he'll be sleeping at home; I like that.

WIshing everyone a happy holiday with hopes that they, too, get to be somewhere with those they love most.

"So what do you do when you're not working?"

I work three days a week and do absolutely nothing else on those days.  My very-physical job totally drains me of all energy. Even talking on the phone feels like an effort.

So I'm sometimes asked what I do on the other four days. An honest answer would be, "Depends on the month." 

Aside from taking long bubble baths, reading, running errands, and wearing comfortable shoes so my feet can recover (I've never been so focussed on feet as I am now), I do a lot in the four days since I last worked.

I see five movies:

The first two I watch alone on Monday —

• Film Stars Don't Die in Liverpool  (the lead character wastes away from cancer which kind of ruins it for me).
• The Killing of a Sacred Deer (creepy and disturbing).

On Tuesday, Jill comes over and we watch two, half movies:

• The Lies We Tell (too many plots to care about any).
• Their Finest (cute but not that interesting).

The next day I watch the second half of the two movies Jill and I couldn't finish. They don't improve.

But tonight I see a screening of The Disaster Artist with Shari. It surprises us both — it's very funny, cleverly-written, and James Franco is brilliant in the title role.

I see The Children with a friend-who-doesn't-like-being-named-in-my blog and Zelia. It's a very long, one-act play about a catastrophic event. And if that isn't depressing enough, it suggests that if you're over 50, your life is pretty much over anyway, so why not volunteer for a job that will kill you from radiation so someone younger doesn't have to take that job?

I also have:

One conference call and one in-person meeting for BAFTA.

A dermatologist's appointment where I'm told, when asked: "You're losing your upper lids." I know, I know. But it's still something I don't like hearing, even if I do ask.

A manicure where I opt for a dark shade then immediately wish I'd gone with my usual Ballet Slippers or Limo-scene.

I even prepare 11.5 dozen chocolate chip cookies using my sister Jean's amazing recipe and then freeze the cookies without baking them. I'll do that before I serve them on Monday. This feels like a major accomplishment as I rarely bake.

So yes, I was busy is the correct answer to the question, "What did you do this week?"

Ask me again in two weeks. My answer then will be very different.