The Bind That Ties

December has- without really looking, probably been the skimpiest, entry-wise, of all the months this year since I began blogging last March. It has been pointed out that there have been 50 entry months and 8 entry months, a sure sign of ebb and flow which is common in everyone's lives. I DID notice and even came close to mentioning it- saying something like..
"Sorry, your readership is important to us and we will get back to you as soon as life hocks up something amusing, visually stimulating- oh, and something that by writing it, won't invade someone else's private moments by writing about it in a public forum. Please stand by, or have a seat- it may be awhile and it looks like those shoes might hurt." oh "Beeep."

The interesting thing is that the 32 entry month/8 entry month statistic was revealed to me and taken for granted, as well as the references to early, early blog entries. Discounted as just someone trying to catch up with me- and my life. Bit of hubris actually- as this particular individual has a life which barely allows for a change of socks and a laundry drop off. And the collaborator also has a life pretty chock full of child, school and dealing with a new life and the challenges it brings. But I have always heard that if you want to get something done- give it to a busy person. If its a biggie- give it to two busy persons and watch them multi task by not only getting it done but by becoming really good friends in the process.

You little co-conspirators, you.

So it was my favorite little guy's fifth birthday and paired with Christmas there was a pretty big haul on the table for him as well as a natal-fest feast that would make Rachael Ray wince (this didn't take 20 minutes, babe- deal with it- go down a shot of EVO wouldja?) I volunteered ( and dragged an ever-willing VLH and his brand new food processor along for the ride) to make hummus and grill vegetables. The work was pretty minor for a former chef and his amateur assistant to knock off with a mere 2 jugs of very strong coffee. We finished the required cooking activities and VLH took the lead, heading over to Z's apartment chatting merrily on his cel phone to one person or another. I scaled the stairs to the apartment- Z lives in a 4th floor walk-up- some days- like at the end of a month of sheer culinary indulgence and zero trips to the gym- scaling the stairs to Z's house feels like scaling Annapurna- in heels.

We arrived and stood panting in the hallway and Z opened the door simultaneously greeting us, complaining about the cat, pointing out that the garbage needed taking out AND did we want anything to eat. I ran into the kitchen- which looked like the Falklands after the invasion- small and ...well it wasn't covered in goats but with all the dishes pans and other party prep remains- goats might have been an improvement. I grabbed 2 sausage out of a waiting pan and stuck one in my mouth and held the other in my hand as I walked back to the living room to offer assistance to Z and a sausage to VLH. Z stood in the middle of the maelstrom holding what looked like a pair of dictionaries clutched to her chest. VLH turned down my sausage offer, which should have tipped me off- and directed me to Z, who insisted I wipe my hands clean. I thought about wiping them on the back of my jeans, but at this juncture drawing attention to that area of my body- NOT my best side at the end of the holiday season, was just not prudent. I scarfed the 2nd sausage (waste-not, waist, also not.) and found a napkin and did a serviceable job of cleaning my greasy paws.

I held my hands out and Z placed the two 500 page tomes in my upturned hands- one book red, the other deep green. The green one had gold letters embossed into the cover. In Times New Roman it read: "The Ephemerist's Notebook" and on the second line optically centered "Volume One". The red book read, in Times New Roman golden letters "The Ephemerist's Notebook, Volume 2"

I'm crying as I write this. and I did then as well. I could not speak. I could not breathe. I know Z spoke to me. I know VLH did as well. I cannot tell you what they said. I have been struck speechless before as you know. Strangers saying with their actions that they care for me, that will take away my ability to come up with some glib comment. This took away my breath and I was not quite sure I could take anything more in- not even air. The letters glinted at me from the pristine hard covers. This...book. THESE books. I could not wrap my head around the idea that I had done this, that THESE were me... and mine. And then I looked at the faces of those two- one who has stood by me for almost twenty years and literally kept me alive through some of its darkest moments, been more than a friend and better than any sister could be to me and then to the face so new and so incredibly dear to me, my precious, precious and brave yov. The yov that has always been one step braver in loving me.

It wasn't just that they were bound- though seeing my writing as books- as opposed to some glorified Myspace page or Facebook ego trip (hot or not- you decide!) And more that hearing that they both felt this work was worth the tremendous effort to get this done. It was an incredible visual. This amazing year in two volumes. Special. Three-dimensional. And mine.

Eventually I stopped crying and was able to whisper my thanks. The books had to be put away as they brought on a new spate of tears every time I saw them and my red tear-stained visage was frightening the little party-goers and putting them off the remaining sausages.

I asked VLH to put the books in his car as we were going to see Fred for dinner in a glorious restaurant in New Canaan called Aloi and I wanted him to see this amazing gift. It was my one-year anniversary of knowing Fred and I wanted to celebrate the changes he had brought into my life and introduce him to the newest one. At dinner, which was incredible, we talked about the nature of loving, and Fred said something- he said that a particular person we were discussing "just wanted to be appreciated for the love they were giving".

At the time the phrase had a different context and it was not until just now that I realized that was what the real gift of the books was. Recognition of the love I had been giving, returned to me- in red, green and gold.

Oh my.

To any one who reads this- from Brooklyn to Helsinki. Happy New Year.

:) X

Cheezborger, Cheezborger, Cheezborger, no fries (ice) chips

Chicago twice in one year. This absolutely constitutes a record for me as my goddaughter Nikki, the world's most glorious adolescent pointed out, the last time I saw her that often we were waiting for her to be potty trained. After a weekend spent with Syd and the fam in Hinsdale (for those of you who wondered- the latch on the patio door is still unrepaired- at this point I think Henry would use a piece of chewing gum to fix it and Syd is considering total house razing to rectify the problem and a compromise does not appear to be likely or imminent)

Flying into Chicago on Saturday morning fell asleep (yahoo- the ephemerist becomes a seasoned traveler!) I woke to the man in the seat next to me smiling at me- a bit disconcerting as I am pretty certain I was drooling a teensy bit. Seems he had been flying for the past 15 hours and was actually looking over my shoulder as we taxied into Chicago- "Is that snow?" He said. I turned- blinking and trying surreptitiously to wipe my eyes. Snow. Lots of it. I YELLED at Syd "you didn't TELL me". I texted VLH- there is SNOW here- he texted back- "Strange turn in the weather- currently 85 degrees in NJ- taking the kids to the beach." I knew- unless he was suddenly raising polar bear cubs that was just a MAJOR dig that said- it's winter all over, babe- deal with it. Personally I feel dealing directly with reality is highly overrated and occasionally ..well, often a buzz-kill.

Fortunately I learned very quickly that like New York, Chicago is a walking city. What I mean by that is you do not need to get into a car to reach civilization- in this case- I walked out the door and saw...TONS of civilization- lots of cool and groovy architecture, public transportation and stores- even a GARMIN store- right there on Michigan Avenue. I guess to allow you to BUY a Garmin they needed to find a retail location you could get to WITHOUT one. Blind people could see this place the windows were 2 stories high and the travertine marble exterior had a big GARMIN logo on it. All they needed was a voice outside the store repeating over and over- "You have reached your destination". The store was trying very hard to be an Apple Store- lots of hip looking sales people of multiple ethnicities and none over say...27.5 years of age (just old enough to resist calling EVERYONE- male and female- "Dude"). And they TRIED to help me but..in a way it was just like the Scotch tape store on the old Saturday night live which only sold- Scotch Tape. They seemed to only feature 1 model of Garmin at only ONE lofty price point $699. It seemed ironic that the display, and the merchandise and the super cool store staff- just made me wanna say- "Get Lost".



Chez Garmin



Sayat Nova Armenian Restaurant




The Navy Pier in Winter and Lake Michigan

But. Garmin also sponsored the MAPS exhibit at The Field Museum. As much as I love the Natural History Museum here in NYC- you had to love the Field- home to "Sue" the world's only/most complete tyrannosaurus rex skeleton. I did not realize- until making Sue's acquaintance, that most/all OTHER tyrannosaurus rex skeletons were cobbled together or made with artificial parts- I can just imagine the exchange- "I'll trade you 6 tyrannosaurus vertebrae for a stegosaurus hip joint and 3 triceratops toes..." Add in 4 calling birds and 3 french hen skeletons and it's a merry holiday all around. The best part for me- Sue- the display and maintenance of- is sponsored by McDonald's. There is a joke in there SOMEWHERE I just can't find it.

However- there was another joke I found- ALMOST as old as Sue, hamburger related AND as free of tyrannosaurus rex meat as Sue's old bones. The Billy Goat Tavern. What? You may ask- I didn't know either. The Billy Goat Tavern was immortalized on Saturday Night Live. The real Saturday Night Live in the days of Belushi, Ackroyd, Morris, Newman, Curtin and the glorious Gilda Radner. The Skit?

Cheezborger, Cheezborger, no fries- chips- no coke Pepsi.

The Billy Goat is located UNDER the glitzy Michigan Avenue shopping strip and across from the cool and groovy Chicago Tribune building- notable for the bits and pieces embedded in it from other cool and groovy buildings.



A piece of the Trib



Under Michigan Avenue

I was dressed in road exec gear- suit- coat with fur collar- heels- the Billy Goat at the height of its dress code- requests you wear nothing with permanent stains on it. So the greeting I received when I walked in the door was- in a SPITTING imitation of Belushi - "You wanna EAT here?" Yes, actually yes, I do. I love dives- greeeezee spoons- not dirty- or smelly but- unpretentious and filled with stuff- oh and at the smell of meat on a griddle- my whole being yells YIPPEE lets PARTY! Barely disguising his surprise the counterman swiftly went into his patter-

"You want cheezborger? Double cheezborger the best!" OK I'll have that
"You want chips, no fries" Yes Please.
"Corn Chips, Regular Chips?" Regular.
"Pepsi, Diet Pepsi, Sprite, Ginger Ale" Diet Pepsi (OK,OK I KNOW double cheezborger... we save where we can...)

And it came to me on a slip of waxed paper- just as you see here (I added pickles and pickle relish and lots of ketchup, the only red wine that truly complements hamburger grease)



And- as greasy-divey experiences go- it was MIGHTY fine. Oh and I managed to keep it off my white shirt... BONUS!



And finally- a reminder on the cold Navy pier- how far I was, exactly, from yov.
It made getting home and what it would take... a little bit clearer.

And I'm home :)

:P X

The Leader of the Band

And here is the key
To a house far away
Where I used to live
As a child.
They tore down the building
When I moved away
And left the key unreconciled.

Souvenirs- Dan Fogelberg

Christmas. I have always felt that Santa's bag was a mixed one. Lots of presents to get- upside. Downside: finding presents to give- and heaven help me, the right one (the internal pressure on this one for me is the same strength used to turn coal into diamonds) Tons of great foods (the office today offered a cornucopia heavy on chocolate covered salty things -breakfast this morning was dark chocolate covered popcorn- I had em with a glass of milk) but alas little time in the holiday hubbub to get to the gym. And visiting my friends- spending time, precious time with Nikki who will be older and a lot less a little girl the next time I see her- but the upside- she grows like the most amazing flower and there is joy in that. And saying good-bye to those far-flung friends- feeling the tear as I drive away into a gray midwestern morning- the upside- I'm driving- it still rocks. And there is so much, so much, to come home to. You know who you are.

And then a note, an e-mail, Dan Fogelberg died at 56. It seems so... young. 56 years old- shouldn't there be some sort of divine dispensation for talent? For those people whose gift- in this case whose music, is so intricately entwined in memories our lives? But there isn't. What is beautiful and oh so fine is too often fleeting.

And so it goes- I listen to the songs. I remember those times and I am grateful. For the music that brings those times so close that I taste the wine of those moments on my lips, sweeter for the aging and the bitterness of such a young vintage now mellowed and fine. I choose to be sad for this moment because when beauty passes it is fitting to grieve and I rejoice for the moments that this sad, sad death brought back for a visit.

And here is a sunrise
To set on your sill.
The ghosts of the dawn
Moving near.
They pass through your sorrow
And leave you quite still...
Sitting among souvenirs.

Office Christmas Party Etiquette

I have read the articles posted online about the do's and don'ts for the office Christmas party. Traditional wisdom summed up it says- DO go (because you HAVE to) but for the Love of your JOB do not have fun (if they catch you being yourself- your career is toast). All these ridiculously sensible rules make my heart yearn for a slightly less- sensible, wildly politically incorrect time. So- for your reading pleasure and mine, a memo (written in 1957 and edited somewhat by me for length and well- it's 2007- we actually HAVE come a long way, girl-wise) by Alan Sherman (yes, the guy who wrote the Camp Granada Song- Hello Muddah- Hello Fadduh) on conduct at the office Christmas Party:

Memo to: All Office Personnel
From: Alan Sherman
Subject: The 1957 Office Xmas Party

The office party as most of you know is set for next Tuesday, December 24th, at 12 noon.

Girls who have been present at previous Office Parties have been, I realize, looking forward to seeing me at this party next Tuesday.

Due to the unprecedented demand for my services this year, and the limitations imposed on me by nature and time-- I must set forth the following rules and regulations for conduct at the Office Party:

1. ALL OF THE GIRLS WISHING TO PECK ME POLITELY ON THE CHEEK, or pinch my cheek and say "isn't he a doll?" will kindly line up at the 29th floor water cooler. If time allows, I will appear there late in the party to accomodate one and all.

2. GIRLS WITH NO PREVIOUS SEXUAL EXPERIENCE, OR GIRLS SUFFERING from emotional trauma, will please report MONDAY night at 7:30 to my assistant, Mr. Chester Feldman, who will give you pre-party instructions, a chalk-talk, and a specially prepared pamphlet from the National Safety Council.

3. DOROTHY KRESSLER WILL REPORT DIRECTLY TO ME IMMEDIATELY UPON RECEIPT OF THIS MEMO What I have in mind is the same thing as last year but this year I'd like to get started a little earlier.

4. ALL GIRLS WILL TAKE WHATEVER SPECIAL PRECAUTIONS ARE INDICATED. DON'T DEPEND ON ME FOR PRECAUTIONS- YOU KNOW WHAT A MAD, IMPETUOUS FOOL I AM.

5. I HAVE NO DESIRE TO REPEAT MY UNFORTUNATE EXPERIENCE OF LAST YEAR'S CHRISTMAS PARTY. Most of you will remember my regrettable case of trench mouth which lasted well into February of this year. I'm not going to name any names- you know who you are.

6. DUE TO THE UNPRECEDENTED DEMAND priority will be given this Christmas to those who have done their part during the course of the regular year.

7. GIRLS--REMEMBER THE GOLDEN RULE. Be fair to the other girls. Do unto me only what you would let me do unto you. Take only what you need. Waste not, want not. Remember a man isn't made of wood, but he isn't made of iron either.

8. GIRLS WHO BRING UP THE SUBJECT OF OFFICE POLITICS at critical moments in the proceedings will be regarded as blase and tabled indefinitely.

9. TO THE NEW GIRLS WHO HAVE JOINED THE ORGANIZATION SINCE THE LAST CHRISTMAS PARTY. I must beg you to control yourself as much as you can. For heaven's sake maintain your dignity if it is at all possible. And in years to come, when you tell your friends about it--and I know you will--please be kind.

Thank you Alan...

I have my own set of Holiday Party rules.

I always say "Happy Hanukah" to everyone. I am Jewish- this is known as "representing".

I never pinch anyone's tushy. Not on purpose. And if someone pinches mine- I always say "thank you"

I eat dinner before I go. It's not the drinking I worry about- it's spilling hors d'oeuvres down the front of whatever I am wearing.

I don't drink alcohol- I can fall down without it- why bother with the calories?

I hug. A lot. It's a good time for it. And you can't BUY presents for everyone.

These are just MY rules As for you- please follow common sense- xeroxing your tushy as your holiday card or getting extremely busy in the stock room (that act is NOT also known as collating) is probably not a stellar career move.

Enjoy the party!

:)X

Ways to have fun at the holidays

Ralph Guild...embellished

I am loving this holiday season. Loving the travelling and the coming home- it's all good. HOWEVER. Not so many folks share this point of view and seem to need to INFLICT their crankiness on those of us content to fa-la-la our way through the season. Strangely enough both my examples happened THIS week, on the subway.

Yesterday a man who spent a great deal of money buying some high-maintenance female a Chanel purse for the holiday took an inordinate amount of glee pokng me in the back with the huge honking shopping bag (with razor enhanced corners by the feel of it) on the subway.

Tuesday, when I was VERY late for dinner at the fabulous Leo's Grandevous whith a lovely bunch of folks (I hate being late) the trains were delayed and each "E" train was more crowded than the last, not allowing so much as a shopping bag, much less the shopping bag OWNER onto the train. Finally I WEDGED myself into a space that would have made a supermodel "suck-it-in" and two MORE people squished in behind me. I have been less intimate with LOVERS than I was at that moment to the people around me on the train. Just to the east of my right ear a woman started shrieking. "OH NO- there is NO more room in here- don't even THINK about getting on..." OOps- our bad- we did not know this was HER train.

So. I figure there are a couple of ways when- not desperately depressed, but slightly tweaked, you can cheer yourself up.

I will add them as I come up with them (I get tweaked pretty often)

Thing 1. Dress up busts in museums. Let's face it- busts are a way of a person saying- I am IMPORTANT- but only from the neck up. It is the sculpture equivalent of a dickie (a fake shirt front that goes under a sweater or jacket thus freeing the wearer from putting on extra clothes...it's a goofy form of clothing) Anyway- they are just ASKING to be dressed up as, unlike whole statues... you can usually reach their heads. The statue of Ralph Guild (shown fully dressed above) was at the Museum of Radio and Broadcasting and ... I had help. I find it advisable when committing a crime, to have a partner. It helps if the partner is a little kid- they are harder to arrest, and they giggle.

And speaking of giggling-

Thing 2. Go to the nearest large toy store and find the Tickle Me Elmos. Begin at one end of the display and start tickling. See if you can get all the Elmos going at once. Before they throw you out of the store.

In a more traditional realm:

Thing 3. Kiss Sidewalk Santas. They are cold. They are bored. This wakes them up. Avoid the ones with yellow beards- smoking Santas do not taste so good.

:)X

Oy, Again with the lists....

Finding a kosher chicken at the holidays- not so hard in NYC


Last night was the 1st night of Hanukah. Aside from phone calls to the near and dear and a pork product/cream sauce dinner at a "red sauce joint" in Hoboken, the first night did not have that holiday feeling. I didn't light any candles. The candle lighting prayer was said, albeit over a plate of (oy a shanda) shellfish fra diavolo. I have deferred my gift giving until Christmas eve- offering the excuse of flying to and fro as the (weak, so weak) reason why I haven't gotten to the gift shopping. Truth be told I seem to have found PLENTY of time to shop for me.

But I am not avoiding the holiday. I want to stretch it out. I want... well- I thought I would offer a wish list for Hanukah:

I want more time- with friends, and people I love, and with my pillow on cold winter mornings

I want a reason to get out of bed- and a reason to stay five more minutes (you know who you are)

I want to laugh so hard my ribs hurt

And to shed a couple of tears to remember there are two sides to every coin- but we make a choice each time we flip it as to how we deal with the result

I want to be better- at ALL of it- and yet be satisfied at the end of each day that I brought the best I had in myself to that day

I want my favorite foods to be calorie free. Understand here (as we learned from the panty fairy, wishes must be specific) I do NOT want to learn to love iceberg lettuce and celery- I want pizza to never, ever stick to my hips- even with extra cheese.

Also in the food vein- I would like people to give fruitcake a second chance- it's yummy- and just plain misunderstood.

I'd like to spend an hour with the folks that....aren't with me, here, anymore. It would be great just to have enough time to tell each of them I love them one more time.

Not so much to ask- and any one of them would be a terrific gift all on its own (except maybe the fruitcake- if fruitcake catches on there will be less of it for me... not such a good thing)So- until I open the first branch of the Fruitcake anti-defamation league(and weight loss emporium) I will just wish you dreidels, lots of gelt, latkes (sour cream or applesauce- you choose) and jelly doughnuts, non-drippy candles and 8 great wishes to end the year.

:) X

The Mess With Texas

The Fried Macaroni and Cheese Nugget from Sonic

Pure evil. 280 calories 140 of them pure unadulterated FAT. Fortunately only available from Sonic for, as Sherell the fast talking Sonic counter girl assured me- for the season. I was wondering... WHICH season? The Cholesterol Season? Say... September until death by arterial clogging? Or the holiday season- which needs no help after stuffing, pies and Christmas cookies, potato latkes and chanukah gelt to pack on an additional 10 lbs from November to January which will cling to your hips like a horn dog ex-boyfriend until the promise of summer forces you to brutally shake them (the pounds, not the boyfriend) by dining on water and celery until thinner or fed up. Oh. And the worst news- they're really tasty.



Wedding Flags in La Marqueta San Antonio



A stylish lady of San Antonio... thos one OBVIOUSLY gave the mac and cheese nuggets a miss...



The Guadalajara Grill in La Villeta, the original settlement of San Antonio. A note to the ... well to myself. When you have a post awful cold stomach do not, UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, order the smoked tuna enchiladas with chipotle sauce. Even on a good day.. well, Montezuma's reach, in the name of revenge, is extensive and truly potent.



The Alamo. Located MOST unfortunately next to a BIG mall and across from a Ripley's Believe it or Not







A friend suggested not only that I tell their child about jackelopes but that I ran this particular one over with my rental car.

And then there was the mess...

There was a horrendous line at security in the airport going from San Antonio to Dallas. One frustrated woman, an hour into the wait announced to everyone in the line- "I have NO idea why this is taking so long. All they have to do is search the Muslims." I could not help myself. I said out loud "Oh my God". A man next to me said "Yeah". Except he wasn't saying it to me- he was saying it to the woman who made the initial comment.

The next two days the comment stayed with me and then outside the Alamo I saw the most adorable Mexican child. Her abuela was sitting having a cold drink in the shade and the baby wandered back and forth waving a tissue like an unofficial greeter of Alamo visitors. I thought about Davy Crockett. And General Santa Anna. Lots of strife. Certainly not a great deal of love for Mexicans back then in San Antonio. And yet here we were. And here was this tiny muchacha waving hello. Things pass. Ultimately despite whatever the day's strife- approach with love, openness and innocence. This and time and the rest all passes. Especially with love.



You know who you are. :) X