i was listening to FRESH AIR the other day and heard about OPEN THAT BOTTLE NIGHT. it's this saturday and we're going to participate - so should you! you know that bottle you've been saving for something special? here's your chance to enjoy!
here's what we plan to open:
a 2006 zinfandel from FROG'S LEAP
maybe a year after ABN and i started dating i went down to florida with DAD PRIME, DBN and P/P to visit grandpa bob. i had met him earlier in our relationship but it wasn't under the most uplifting of circumstances (want to know something AWKWARD? meeting the guy you're digging's entire extended family at a funeral...ugh) and was excited to spend some time doing the florida thang.
you see, i was lucky enough to grow up with 4 grandparents who all lived within a 6 mile radius of me. and until my family dramatically moved across the country when i turned 17 (not sure if i've mentioned that before...wink wink) i spent countless dinners around their table, sundays in their swimming pool and tuesday afternoons lying on my back in their grass counting clouds and pennies. as much as i loved having them close by, i longed for my own set of florida grandparents. i was jealous of my friends who took cross-country flights on their own, who spent winter vacation basking in the tropical florida sun, who played shuffle board with mr. and mrs. goldfarb while their own grandparents played their weekly bridge game and who had to put on a blue sports jacket just to go downstairs to dinner in the dinning room of the old folks home. to me florida sounded like basically the coolest place EVER.
so when ABN asked if i wanted to come along i jumped at the opportunity. i had heard about the early bird rib special at flanigan's and about the all you can it salad bar at sweet tomato. i knew that we would probably go to fra diavolo at least twice, and that grandpa bob would order veal marsala and that ABN would not, and that grandpa bob would shake his head in disbelief. i knew there would be dancing daily and that while grandpa bob was happy to dance with DBN or P/P or me at a family gathering, he couldn't disappoint his regular partners. i knew that in florida everything was super air conditioned so i needed to always have a sweater. point me in the right direction - i was good to go.
in addition i was told it was imperative that i bring a swimsuit because, one of grandpa bob's favorite activities, at 98, was to swim. check. that first day we were there, ABN took our swimsuits with us everywhere, but grandpa bob shot us down when we told him we were ready, "it's only 80 degrees, today, that's not swimming weather." our bad.
the next day, we were caught off guard. it was 83 out, and therefore, perfect for swimming. but we had left our swimsuits back at the hotel. it was clear, grandpa bob was a man who would wait for no one, luckily he was also a man with a solution - ABN could borrow one of his swim suits...PERFECT.
as DBN and i sat in the living room waiting for ABN to emerge with GREAT anticipation, we heard a few grunts and weird sucking noises coming from the bathroom.
"you okay in there?" i asked, tentively
"uh huh..."
"you coming out anytime soon?"
"uhhhhhhhhhhhh..."
"let's get a move on, it's time to swim", if anyone could get the boy to move, it was grandpa bob
and then out walked ABN in the tightest pair of red, white and blue swimming trunks from 1953 that anyone had EVER seen. the amount of hairy man leg that was on display for the world to see was bordering on terryifing but really, it was the way the fabric tugged tightly across his booty that was almost indecent. as if that wasn't enough - he had a wind breaker to match. he just sort of stood there, his mouth and infamous cross-bite agape in uncertainty, as DBN and i rolled around on the floor completely hysterical. but our laughter had to be contained as grandpa bob was already out the door headed toward the pool...we ran to catch up.
what i don't think any of us understood, was that the walk to the pool included traipsing through the lobby of the retirement home...past the yiddish sing-a-long, right down the middle of the dinning room where women drank tea and along the corridor where one lady seemed particularly intrigued by the sight of ABN in all his glory....
"isn't that nice..." she slowly drawled as she looked him up and down as he walked by.
last night, as i was trying to fall asleep, this moment unexpectedly popped into my head. it caused a fit of uncontrollable giggles which led to many fewer hours of sleep than i had intended. but remembering the scene was totally worth it. i also learned an important lesson that day...never leave the house without a camera!
in other news i dressed completely inappropriately for the weather today. i'm in a coffee shop, on the other side of town and i'm freezing...so i think i'll trek back home to change. oh and...i think i have a new name for the blog. these are exciting times people...check back soon :)
by writing it, maybe i will be better at practicing this known truth - i am way more productive and thus, feel way better about my day, when i spend a significant part of it in a coffee shop rather than on my couch (duh). yesterday i had a conference call and then the mouse man (i think everything is under control) and so by the time i headed to the gym it was after 11 and by then shops were open which significantly slows my process and while the gym is fine i don't really enjoy sitting in my sweaty clothes afterwards. so - yesterday while i did hit a coffee shop after my gym, it felt rushed (i think i was only there 30 minutes) and then i ran home to make the monkey bread (yes, i'm still talking about the monkey bread).
today i could not drag myself out of bed (it's the rainy weather i know, but this does not bode will for my upcoming schedule change of hitting the gym BEFORE work) but once i did (and pushed ABN out the door) i made my own way to the coffee shop and have happily been working ever since. it's only 11 and i feel more productive and more satisfied than i did all day yesterday. so if you see me walking down the street muttering to myself "coffee shop, coffee shop, coffee shop" - you'll know i'm only trying to motivate myself.
last night was our third book club. we read THE GOD OF SMALL THINGS
alright enough...back to work. and then the gym. and then trader joes because i'm totally making THIS for dinner.
also...two more things that have been keeping me up at night:
1. i'm thinking it might be time to change the name/host of the blog. ABN has argued for a while that fairy chimneys sounds like butterfly blech and while would argue a deeper meaning i sorta have to agree. it seems like if i'm making one change i may as well do it all at once so just a heads up...don't be surprised if i sorta jump ship. and i'm taking suggestions/guidance.
2. a lot of my blogger friends (i'm sorry, that's like the most ridiculous phrase i have ever typed ever) are doing a themed weekly post. whether it's a breakdown of a favorite tv show, an easy to follow recipe or a latest obsession, i must admit i look forward to reading more. i'm thinking of doing a weekly post as well (you know me, i like jumping on board after over analyzing for weeks at a time) but i'm not sure what direction to choose. there are a few options i'm considering: my thoughts on the latest hollywood happenings (hollywood as defined by me), my latest and greatest web discovery (ie something you can buy and i feel the NEED to own) or things that make me go hmmmmmmmm....
what would you like to read about weekly?
if there was ever any doubt as to whether or not i am my father's daughter (um...as if my schnoz and my sarcasm weren't enough) tonight for book club i made this. yep, i'm all his!
but since i was baking (i even used my kitchen aide dough hook for the first time! i don't know what i was waiting for!) i decided it's time to post this...i wrote it for my class and then rewrote it like four or five times. we were supposed to write about our soul food...
We sit together at the vinyl tablecloth. It’s green, with eggshell white and cornflower blue butterflies and birds, and has a flannel underside so that it doesn’t get stuck to the surface beneath it. It covers her heavy, round kitchen table that has traveled from house to house along with her family and her photographs in mismatched silver frames. She polishes them on Wednesday mornings before her friends come over to play Pan, betting only the left over change at the bottom of their purses. We roll up our sleeves and she reaches over to push mine up above my elbows so that they stay put. She pulls me over to the sink and stretches my arms so that the hot water hits my hands as she scrubs them with lava soap, leaving the valleys between my fingers drier than before she wet them.
She takes the supplies out of the cabinet that is too high for me to reach, even when I stand on my tiptoes, even when I stand on stool. Powdered sugar, vanilla, canola oil, a packet of chocolate pudding mix and fudge cake mix too. From the white refrigerator covered with pictures of us and a calendar from the City of Hope and small butterfly magnets painted in orange and yellow and blue, she takes out butter and eggs. She switches on the coffee maker as she walks by me and whispers in my ear, “we’ll need that later,” and I feel her lips lightly brush my cheek, sticky, leaving her candy-apple red lipstick behind as if branding me as hers.
I stand on my stool; my feet flat now, steady, dumping into the mixing bowl whatever she places in front of me. I know enough to not question her order or the amount that she has so carefully and expertly measured. I know enough to know she is doing it right.
We pour the batter that we have prepared into the bunt pan together. I hold the green ceramic bowl in both of my small hands, still greasy from the butter, and she places hers over mine and helps to guide the chocolate, smoothly into place. She uses a rubber spatula to scrape the bowl, going over the same round sides again and again until a large glob of chocolate has collected, where once there was almost nothing; and she hits it hard against the side of the metal pan. Once she is satisfied she lifts the bunt pan merely a centimeter off the tile counter top and slams it back down, once, twice, three times. I look at her trying to comprehend her methods, but instead I cover my ears to block the noise. She smiles as she places the cake in the oven. She glances casually at the clock to note the time, but does not set a reminder.
Together we sit back down at the kitchen table. We have placed the measuring cups in the sink and placed the now empty cardboard boxes into the trash. I sit on the chair on my knees, the lacquered cushion squishing flat underneath me. I lean directly into the cake batter bowl that she has placed in front of me and as I stick my wet fingers deep down, catching the left over chocolate, too scarce for her to capture before, I look up and see her licking the spatula.
i might have just done something a little crazy. and by might, i mean definitely. and by crazy i mean, set me back lack 8 or 9 years. oops.
i went out to lunch with an old friend today and it was absolutely lovely. we went to THE BIG M together and i think were mostly attached at the hip but then my family moved across the country and our friendship didn't so much survive the distance. i remember missing her desperately but like so much of the move, instead of admitting my feelings i just pouted and slammed doors. i think she and another friend came to westport for a high holiday (or something jewish) sometime toward the beginning of freshman year - but we've had no contact since then. there was no falling out (at least not one that i remember), just a lot of miles and a butt load of drama.
i have to say it was really great to see her. we shared lunch (which after like 10 years says something) and talked about our real lives and who we were way back when. i was shocked to hear who she no longer talks to because when you're not in the mix you just assume that they are all still best friends and that you are the only one...left behind. left behind - that's funny - since i'm the one who left. i hate that i always feel like i'm missing something. i fear i'll never get over that school.
when it was time to leave i said that we should do it again - with ABN and her boyfriend - and i hope that we will because i think i'm at a place where we could...and maybe she is too.
so you're question must be...where's the crazy? oh, i got your crazy! thinking about THE BIG M always makes me think about some of my most unhealthy choices. and i can't help but think, i'm a different person now, a stronger person...and maybe i'm ready. i wonder. and sometimes wondering leads to reaching out...
i am in the process of digging myself from a pile of guests in my house. having MRS. LOUDEST COUPLE and my aunt and 13 people for shabbat dinner...if it didn't feel like home before it totally does now.
i'm heading out now to go and see slumdog because it's going to win tonight and i can't fathom not seeing it first. in past years i've been known to host oscar parties with contests and dress codes but this year i can't wait to spend it alone on my couch with a lite shmirnoff ice.
i promise a more complete breakdown of the past few days tomorrow but until then...
i think the world was trying to send me a message yesterday when i went to one of my favorite places, and felt totally and completely lost. the container store generally brings me a peace and tranquility that i don't experience in many other aspects of my life. i love walking up and down the aisles and imagining filling my house with neatly stacked buckets and boxes. i find myself daydreaming of placing my jewelry into acrylic cases, stacking my shoes in individual boxes - labeled with their cute pictures, using my label maker (yep!) to identify papers and photos that i organize into specific folders for various aspects of my life. when things get overwhelming i can count on the container store to bring fantasies of order to the surface.
but yesterday, as i was heading to the train after a coffee with a friend, i was feeling fairly stable and as i walked passed, i decided i would check out the office supplies - now that i'm getting ready to work again i need to think about what stays in the home office (aka laundry room) and what comes with me to the jcc. but something strange must have been in the air because as i walked up and down the aisles, i found myself getting more and more overwhelmed - what did i need? i found myself without a vision. i left with two plate stands that i have been longing for, for way too long (isn't it weird the way yearning for something like a plate stand can make you all kinds of crazy) but mostly i felt feeling unsettled.
and then today it all became clear - i'd dropped the ball. see, i've been so excited about MRS. LOUDEST COUPLE coming to visit (i'm picking her up at the airport in 3 hours!!) that i somehow missed that my aunt was coming this weekend too (not NEXT weekend as i had written in my calendar). FUCK. so, as my heart quickly began to race in a completely obvious way, while on the phone with said aunt, i took a deep breath and thought to myself, "what would a camp director do?" (and yes, the rubber bracelets are already in production) that's right - when a camp director, one has to deal be able to deal with the unexpected, the unplanned and minor crisis. end result. we're going to be fine. sure ABN and i are hosting 13 people (plus one) for shabbat dinner on friday night. yeah, MRS. LOUDEST COUPLE will be using our aerobed. but you know what, this is how memories are made. my favorite camp memories are the unplanned, the unprogrammed. the random as hell, we're gonna get through this together (i've got to remember to post about trying to catch THE WHISTLER!). it's going to be great. i wonder how long its been since my aunt has stayed in a 27 year olds apartment? i mean, our place is nice, i love it. but we're not dealing with granite counter tops here people! it will give my aunt and preview of what her own daughter's life will look like in 10 years...i'm doing a mitzvah.
i'm sure this weekend will provide many stories for future family gatherings - here's hoping the focus is on how great my life is and not how i left her stranded at the airport.
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