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!

I'm back

I got a diary when I was barely able to write. A little black and gold book with lined pages and a key that didn't work. 

I later moved on to filling lined journals.

And when I tired of that, I began including little life-summaries on my calendars.

I've always like to write, even if it's chronicling ordinary experiences.

Said differently?  I've missed blogging.

Even though not a lot has happened since my last post in mid-November, here are some highlights:

I get re-elected in November to the BAFTA NY Board. The competition is tough, and I am relieved to have been chosen for a second term.

Thanksgiving is at Adam and Rachel's in the Hamptons, and again, the day is filled with  family ...

 

Exceptional food (provided by an extraordinary outside chef and staff — the same we've all come to love for the past three years) ...

And a celebration of the November-December birthdays.

Christmas is again spent doing the same thing I've done for the past many years — have friends over to watch movies (this year it's Green Book and Widows). The major difference this year is that finally, I get a new 65 inch Samsung TV (QN65Q8FNBFXZA) that I would highly recommend to anyone looking. It takes four visits from Best Buy's Geek Squad for everything to work, but it's worth the wait, and the many additional discounts I receive. (I also get and love the SONOS BEAM 1US1 Soundbar with it. It coordinates seamlessly with Alexa). And it all looks sleek and uncluttered on the wall.

Work is the same. It astounds me that I am still there; it's now been three years, having started in November 2015. Sales have not been good. But on the bright side, my new manager who came in October is transferred three months later. I'll leave it simply as our styles were not compatible.

And finally, with much consternation, I get a plant. 

And then a Chinese fortune teller tells me I have too much "wood" in my life and to never wear green (easy to do) and avoid having plants in the house. 

It's nice to be back.

taking a break

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.

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.