Shuesday: My pretty ...

OK, they're not really, but better to celebrate the season in a pair of these than a horrible holiday sweater. (and $139.99?!?!?! Is the price of sequins pegged to the price of oil?)

What's Your Damage?

Because Heathers was probably the best movie of 1988, but also because this series has been damn good. Apologies for not alerting you to it sooner, but I'm sure you'll find a way to deal with it (it's on FX, there will be re-runs, if not a marathon). Watch. Enjoy. Glenn Close is good, and Rose Byrne is surprisingly good.

Heathers

Foxy

From stage and costume designer Barry Kay. I think this is just gorgeous.

Shuesday: The orbulous life

I can't decide whether I think these Christian Dior metallic platforms are silly or fabulous, but there they are. The FG recomends that you pre-order for the holidays!

Lazy Sunday

Why is it that one always drinks too much the night before an early brunch? At least I had the wherewithal to take the Advil before going to bed (and certainly more than the wherewithal not to live in East Rutherford in the first place! Which is to say, Go Giants?!). But I dragged myself and my boots through a ridiculously perfect morning to Old Devil Moon in time to meet The Artist and The Actor. Either I really had had too much to drink, or they left out the salt, but the food was less than stellar.

We lingered over our coffee anyway, and then set off for one of the nearby community gardens, to meet actors and beekeepers. You heard me. There are hives in New York City, honey, 20 feet off the ground in a nameless garden. It was a gorgeous day, and there's something particularly surreal about watching people don bee suits, climb a ladder to a roof to another ladder to a platform, and pour sugar water into a tray, because the bees didn't make enough honey to get themselves through the winter. There's something vaguely Pennsylvania Dutch about it all, and hardly a thing to remind you that you're in the city. And there's nothing like watching artists do research, to the sounds of doughnut-eating children at play, while their parents negotiate the minefields of finite shared outdoor space.

I'd recently read this article in the New Yorker, so I was more informed than anticipated, but as it turned out, there wasn't much to see from the ground. (The bee suits didn't include pants, and I'd worn a skirt with the aforementioned boots.) We spent the rest of the afternoon telling bee stories, lingering in the gardens, decorated for Halloween, and drinking coffee. A delightful day.

Icons we mourn: Deborah Kerr

At age 86, Deborah Kerr left us today.

From Here to Eternity, An Affair to Remember, what a lovely, lovely face.

I mean, have you /seen/ me?

I'm a catch. I do the NY Times crossword puzzle in pen.* I eat vegetables. I have a very good sense of humour and I don't do Pilates because it's fun.

I know you don't believe me, but I like my women real. Real breasts, real skin, real lines around their eyes, that mean they've really lived. You show me that woman, and I'm interested.

Who says there's no good writing on television?

Private Practice

* I'm not saying I get it right, I'm saying I do it right, I'm saying I use a pen.

Shuesday: We who are about to rock ...

I'm thinking about these. Because if I had these, I'd walk all the time, right? They've been recommended by friends, but I'm still on the fence.

Oh the Places You'll Go: Toronto

I returned from Texas on Wednesday, worked Thursday and went to Toronto Friday for the wedding of a dear friend I met at summer camp. It was a costume event, so I borrowed a sari, as previously mentioned, from The Blue Fairy, and off I went. The flight was short and sweet - so nice not to change time zones! - and I landed with plenty of time to get to the home of the BFF who'd offered to put me up for the weekend.

Unfortunately, in my haste or lack of research/memories, I confused Dovercourt with Davenport, and ended up about 6.2 km (almost 4 miles) from my destination. I managed to walk and subway my way there, but it took me most of the afternoon, and a fair amount of dragging my suitcase up and downstairs and on and off subways and along sidewalks. When I finally arrived, I'd managed to pick up a bottle of a fav. sauvignon blanc, so there was some downtime refreshment before I headed to the rehearsal dinner. It was a stand-up affair with champagne, lots of food, and many a familiar face.

Saturday involved not sleeping in quite as much as one might prefer, then hanging around and prepping for a birthday party - which mostly involved me reading a Jamie Oliver book while my BFF puttered. We ran errands in the slightly chilly weather. returning in time to apply make-up and apply sari. After an at-home mishap, we applied a binder clip to the front pleats (to great and lasting success), and I headed off to the King Edward. The evening was a smashing success, truly a testament to the fantastic family and friends surrounding the happy couple. And when I got back, the party was still in semi-full swing, so I stayed in my sari and we talked the night away.

Next morning's brunch came a wee bit early, but I got there gracefully and at a reasonable hour, and thank the gods, there were bloody marys. The debriefing could have lasted all day, but there was a plane to catch, amidst the fall-out of the Toronto Marathon, but somehow I made it to Pearson on time, and back to New York.

And now I have two and a half weeks in my own damn house. Heaven, I tell you.

Oh the Places You'll Go: Texas

From vacation in Los Angeles, I went straight to work in Austin, Texas. Blissfully, the flight was as advertised.

Austin was just as hot as Palm Springs, but with five times the humidity. It is the live music capitol of the US, an excellent town for BBQ (Texas does brisket, pork ribs & sausage), and the home of a state capitol building that is intentionally taller than the national capitol building. It is also a deep Blue pocket in an otherwise (currently) Red state.

The troops gathered for dinner at Fonda San Miguel. Much needed mmmargaritas, creamy corn soup, chile relleno de espinaca and tres leches for dessert. The following day was spent indoors in an all day meeting - and when I say all day, I mean 9-6. We opened a well deserved bottle of wine when it was over, and then headed to quick change and attend the Texas Freedom Foundation's Gala & Silent Auction. Jeans were everywhere (although apparently skinny jeans haven't made it that far south) and the thin band of sequins on my top was no match for the glitter already present. The food was less than fantastic, baguette sandwiches, crudites, but a good time was had by all.

Sleeping in was the order of the following day, but we headed out of town for the best BBQ in town at The Salt Lick. It's byob and picnic tables, live music and fresh lemonade. Go go go. And so I went went went to Houston that afternoon to the Magnolia Hotel, in the historic district. Much more my style than the Courtyard Marriott, bless their hearts (yes, I have accent creep). I went to Sambuca for dinner, just down the way. Live music - a traditional jazz band that evening - and absurdly dark lighting - darkening, if you will. The gorgonzola and pecan salad was delish, although served in a bowl that kept tipping over. The dual tuna appetizer that was my main was less successful - the seared tuna was well prepared, but the spices too saucy, and the tartare was like tuna salad - all mayo. Lunch the next day was at Onion Creek Coffee House (Houston trying to be Austin, I was told) in the Heights. And then I went back to Austin, stopping for pecans at Tobias on the way.

Back in Austin, I had planned to visit Stubb's, but they're closed Mondays, so I ended up at Kenichi, which wasn't bad - am considering seeing if I can consume sushi in every state I visit like my co-worker drinks wine from every state. On Tuesday, I managed to visit the Eastside Cafe for lunch, buy boots, and get to Stubb's for not so great bbq (in my inexperienced opinion, under-salted and burnt-tasting) and great live music.

And on Wednesday I came home, bless my heart, after a short and completely inexplicable delay in Raleigh.

In case you were wondering: the weather

There was one cloud in Palm Springs.

Shuesday: Hook'em Horns

AKA, when in Rome ...






Lucchese

Ugh

SCOTUS let the country down on the El-Masri case, the Dems are caving on wiretapping, and a friend reports the following from O'Hare just this morning:

A passenger is refusing to fly on this plane because the United gate agent is wearing a hijab. She and her husband then started to try to convince the other passengers that none of us should fly on this plane. Police are now here, and the couple is explaining that United is "exercising extreme poor judgement" in "letting potential terrorists" work flights.

What is wrong with people? And can I go back to bed now?

Oh the Places You'll Go: Palm Springs & LA

While the FG runs around a lot for work, this time it was for fun. (OK, it was fun on the way to work, but you get the idea.) It's not called tailgating, exactly, but I road the coattails of of a friend attending a convention and headed to Palm Springs, via LAX. The trip from the airport to The Viceroy was longer than anticipated due to the legendary Southern California traffic, but we filled the time.

I've been asked by several people, why Palm Springs? Are you a closet golfer, FG? (As with many such activities, I can golf, but that was not the purpose of the trip.) Are you actually a senior citizen? (Of course not, not that there's anything wrong with that.) It was a chance to get away to a hot place to lie in the sun and do little, if anything.

And indeed, little was done. While we attempted to transport our own luggage to the room twice, we were prevented on the third attempt by Dave, who functions as the concierge. He removed my hand from my suitcase handle. The room was beautifully decorated, and we got the complete rundown on opportunities for spa treatments, exercise (ha!), bicycle rentals, restaurants, room service, etc.

We headed out to find food, and ended up at a cheap little Mexican place with over-sized and delish margaritas. The next morning featured banana and nutella stuffed french toast and a berry smoothie for breakfast on the balcony followed by a trip to the on-site Estrella Spa to book a massage. While there, we opted for a spray-on application of suntan lotion. Perhaps the spray machine was broken, perhaps the word /spray/ has a different meaning in Palm Springs, but what happened was that two women appeared and applied sunscreen to the parts of us not covered by bathing suits. It was a little awkward. I didn't burn, but awkward.

The rest of the day was spent by the pool, adjusting the sun-brella to keep the sun off my face, and slipping in and out of the pool. Dan the pool waiter stopped by around 11:30 and the procession of cocktails featuring fresh pineapple juice and stirred with grapefruit popsicles began, punctuated by a light lunch. The massage was much needed, although a little scent in the lotion would have been nice. We'd wanted to visit the Belgian restaurant for dinner that night (Pomme Frite!) but they were closed, so we ended up at Matchbox for wood oven fired pizza.

The following day we had breakfast and lunch pool-side, and just sat in the sun, reading, swimming, talking and rotating. It was blissful. We went to Pomme Frite for dinner, and went to bed early so as to be up to spend the morning at the pool before the return to LA. We took the long way back, driving south west around Lake Elsinore and above it, through the Cleveland National Forest and Laguna Niguel to the ocean. We stopped at El Adobe in San Juan Capistrano for a late lunch and to check out the photos of former President Nixon and his lovely wife Pat (apparently they dined there often). It was a long but beautiful drive.


We checked into the Chamberlain Hotel in West Hollywood and headed out for dinner, stopping by the Sunset Marquis for cocktails served by a lovely and lithe waitress. She recommended we go to the Bar Marmont for dinner - apparently her sister is the only bartender there with a tattoo on her arm - but we weren't up for the cab ride, so we walked on to The Standard.

The next day took us to LAX to catch flights home and to Austin, Texas, respectively. Stay tuned.

Le weekend: Le mini-break, part three, finale

The cannoli survived the train ride to Roselle Park and the backyard of the The Republican and his lovely wife. We ate and drank (a lot) and went to bed at a semi-reasonable hour to prepare for an early morning trip to the Jersey Shore. The parents of the lovely wife had been visiting earlier that week and she was done done done, but the three of us jumped in the car and headed out. It was a beautiful, hot day, and we enjoyed the peace and the calm and the sunshine. Relaxation was the only thing on the agenda.

We returned to town in time for dinner at Aix, one of my favourite restaurants, and I wore a pretty new dress. The wait on the subway platform was intense - hot hot hot - but we made it and the restaurant was delightfully cool. The food and wine were delightful, and the service excellent. Walk don't run.

The next morning, we skipped through a downpour to visit Chinatown Brasserie for dim sum brunch, Spring Natural for coffee, and wandered the streets of Soho, stopping at Pylones to window shop. Dinner was sushi on the corner, and that was that.

And a good time was had by all.

Previously: Part One, Part Two

Shuesday: Just because

I just like this shoe. I don't think it's in season, I couldn't have worn it this week, but I just love it.

Which will come as a shock to all of you who haven't caught on to my predilection for high heels and bows.