NEW ENGLAND: It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like (FINAL SUBMISSION)... (12/28/09)

All season, we've been recounting the things that make the holidays as special as they are. Now that the ordeal is almost over (we still have New Year's...), It's time for my final submission of the most egregious displays of holiday spirit. So far we have reviewed the Radio City Christmas Tree and Spectacular, the Rockefellar Center Christmas Tree, the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, and the Affinia Hotel in Herald Square. Before we pack away all the ornaments into specially wrapped Pandora's boxes and smother our hurt feelings and excessive, though not surprising, weight gain under a frenetic New Year's resolution, I'd like to take this last moment to tell the holiday season to kiss it... right under the mistletoe.

The final submission in this Santa Smackdown involves my favorite things about the holidays: dysfunction, distilleries, and detectives. It has beat out other such favorites as Christmas trees decorated with Hannukah ornaments (I've never seen a menorah under the mistletoe- that's all I have to say about that one), drunken holiday parties where things go "too far", and children (in general). Without further ado, I give you the final submission of the holiday contest:

The Cops Show Up

This was one of my favorite parts about the movie "Christmas Vacation," mainly because it fit in so nicely with the farce of the Tannenbaum Tale. I mean, as long as you don't kidnap a major dude on Christmas, why would the cops show up?

Well, as I recently recounted, the cops came to my family's Christmas celebration even though they were not invited (this is very rude). They marched right up onto the deck and knocked on the glass kitchen door. They said they were sitting on the road and heard gunshots. When the lead cop (we'll call him "Beta", because he's just shy of having the cahones of an Alpha) saw our incredulous expressions he changed his story. "Well, actually, one of the neighbors called." After four champagnes and a bottomless Dark & Stormy, my very limited legal training compelled me to ask Beta to look at my arms, and decide for himself whether I could throw a snowball so hard that it sounded like a gunshot. He and his partner became bashful and left after sitting in our driveway for a further fifteen minutes and tagging everyone's license plates. For the record, there were no gunshots, no arrests, no phone calls from the neighbors, and no love lost between my ever so wasp-y family and the poh poh.

Now do not get the wrong impression, I love the police. I have always had positive experiences both in Connecticut and in New York. In fact, I am oh so happy to see them when I get off the subway at night. In fact, I've been contemplating writing a few "please come back" letters due to the fact that they no longer hang out in my hood (budget cuts), and have thus missed the excitement of drug-related violence in the surrounding area. I really do miss them and I feel safer when they are around.

However, when a couple of officers (not to be mistaken for gentlemen) found themselves with not a lot to do on Christmas night and admitted to making up a story in my future stepfather's doorway, I was discouraged. I grant that there's probably not a lot going on in this particular town in Connecticut, what with the beheading this department has yet to solve (true story). But that's no reason to turn around and get all scrooge-y on a family event.

The police did not even show up with a host-gift, or a bottle of wine. For crying out loud, they weren't even cute enough to drag under the mistletoe. This kind of imposition is just "not done". However, it did provide the galvanizing force to bring my family together. After all, this will live in our memories forever, as the first Christmas we hazed my mother's future husband, by having the police show up.

And there you have it. I encourage you to discuss your own holiday traditions, stories, bookings, and decide which you think should rule the roost of Nefarious Noels. Take a minute and vote!

Image courtesy of http://www.scene-stealers.com

NEW YORK, NY: Planes, Trains, and Anti-Anxiety Medication (12/28/09)

Each birthday as a child, my father gave me a new volume in the "Worst Case Scenario" guides. This was his way of calming my panic attacks during travel. I've learned how to stop a speeding train, how to escape from quicksand, and how to ward off a zombie attack. I've studied the books, and have followed their travel instructions to a tee. However, his intentions backfired; in preparing for every eventuality, I have learned the vivid details of everything that could go wrong...

I am a terrible traveler. I love being other places, but the process of actually getting there makes me nervous. I will check to see if I have my passport at least twelve times, and will then check twelve times more to make sure that my passport didn't fall out when I was checking. I will then move my passport to another area in case some thief saw where I checked to find my passport. This continues until my passport has made a merry-go-round of my person. In my pre-teen years I would spend entire flights with my fingers crossed. On a recent flight from San Francisco I had to sedate myself because the man next to me refused to turn off his cell-phone. I've never been stopped at airport security for the same reason that Woody Allen has probably never been stopped. If you need a valium to just make it through airport security, you have bigger issues than ascertaining that all your 3 oz. liquids are in a sealed plastic bag, no larger than a one gallon size.

I can spend a whole vacation just recovering from a flight (reference the Kiwi turbulence debacle of 1995). But I can't stop traveling. No matter how neurotic, superstitious, or physically ill it makes me, I want to see how small the world is and drink up every drop, play every game, and dance to every tune. There has got to be an easier way to travel, aside from ocean liners (no go since the Titanic) and magic carpets (I won't ride in anything without seatbelts).

And now there has been a truly scary situation in Detroit, which, to my endless gratitude, ended peacefully. But now I've got a bone to pick with this Nigerian jerk, with jihad, and with Homeland Security. There is never a good time for this sort of thing, but it would have been more convenient if this had not happened when I was fresh out of anti-anxieties, and my flask exceeds the liquid ounce limit prescribed by the TSA.

NEW ENGLAND: Christmas Vacation: Things You Might Find on the Blotter (12/25/09)

My family is many things. Boring is not one of these things. We are also very tall and we like to wear matching Christmas pants.

This Christmas 2009 was the first with the new family (my mother became engaged in October). We did all the things traditional families do, including building a snowman and cooling champagne in him, creating a post dinner and cocktails push-up contest, bowling with empties in a tournament of champions, and having a snowball throwing contest (we are not competitive at all).

This last game sounded menacing to the local police department ("We heard gunshots... or snowballs." is a direct quote), and prompted a visit. I flexed my enormous biceps and my future stepfather told them to go away. Needless to say, this must've seemed like hazing to him... but he passed and is now a welcome member of the family.

This was the most exciting Christmas we've had in New England in quite a while. The holiday, while challenging at times, was fun, lively, and a great way for two families to merge.

NEW ENGLAND: Hooch for the Holidays (12/24/09)

As an ambassador for Maker's Mark, I have spent the better part of the year singing the praises of the Kentucky beauty. As a gesture of thanks, the distillery sent on over a sweet little holiday surprise. In addition to solving my problem of forgetting to buy wrapping paper (again), the holiday surprises also helped to spread the good word about Maker's Mark... namely, that it's pretty great.

Included in the festive envelope were three gift bags, tissue paper with images of Maker's on it, and a lovely note of thanks from the folks in Loretto, Kentucky.

So break out the booze, and may the holidays leave you bottoms up!

Cheers!

NEW YORK, NY: The Nutcracker Sweet (12/19/09)

Every year my sister and I go to see The Nutcracker at Lincoln Center. It's a moment right before the holidays when we can spend time together and just celebrate the magic of the season before the utter madness of it. When we see my mother after the show, she always asks "Did the tree grow this time?"

This year's performance was very nice. The Sugar Plum Fairy was, in my humble opinion, the best I'd seen in years. She danced with the exuberance of a teenager and the skill of a vet. She was absolutely lovely. Tea was also wonderful, and very silly.

Lincoln Center is a gorgeous venue. It is about more than the stage, it is about being a cathedral to art, a destination in and of itself. The lil sis agreed. Here are some pics from the evening (I can't show you all of them as I'm not sure about copyright issues, seeing as how we were admonished at both houses for taking pics inside the venue). As you can see, this is something everyone should do in person. Now, go.

The lobby of the New York City Ballet

The lighting art on the balcony of the New York City Ballet

A view of the New York Philharmonic from the balcony at the Ballet House

The chandelier in the lobby of the opera house. A gift from Austria.

NEW YORK, NY: Chop Chop (12/20/09)

When going through a major transition in life, it is common practice among many (especially women) to change our hairstyles. It is a visible way to punctuate a period of flux, an attempt to reconcile the inner feelings with outer appearance. I am guilty of this practice. When I found my first gray hair and suffered the recognition of my own mortality, I went blonde. When my friends went to Europe, I donated ten inches of hair. I even dyed my hair red(ish) following a breakup. Each change has done more to help me start anew than any other coping mechanism. It is for this reason that I have always found a good hairstylist far less expendable than a shrink.

I have had very long hair for a very long time. A lot of people didn't understand why I would want to have hair down to my waist, but I loved it. Having long hair is a virtual beacon in a crowded bar, guiding new friends to shore. It's irrelevant that many ended up shipwrecked to bits after my occasionally sharp tongue was finished with those who were less than yare.

However, I am now at a stage many call the "quarter-life-crisis." Reconciling jobs with dreams, living arrangements with my actual budget, the single life with the fact that I just adopted a pup... It was time for a change. So I called my amazing hairstylist Nikki, and forty-five minutes later my hair was twelve inches shorter. I kept the red (which I have since grown to love) and chopped the rest for Pantene's Greath Lengths Campaign.

Pantene's Great Lengths Campaign provides wigs for women who have lost their hair to cancer treatments. To my benefit, they actually accept hair that has been dyed semi-permanently (though not permanently), so my donation was eligible for the organization.

I love my new haircut. It's short enough to be a big change, but long enough to still fit in a ponytail. And since I'm benefiting from the mental effects of a haircut, it's only appropriate that someone else benefit, too. My luscious locks served a greater purpose than my social life after all. I wish the woman who ends up with my mane good luck.

For more information on Pantene's Great Lengths Campaign, please visit: http://www.pantene.com/html/Donation_Guide.pdf

For information on where you can get the best hair-do in the city courtesy of Nikki, please visit: http://www.lesaloneast.com/

NEW YORK, NY: Words of Wisdom from the Fridge (12/23/09)

The refrigerator is a magical contraption. The refrigerator keeps your food cold, so it will not rot and make you ill. The refrigerator also is endlessly entertaining- people can stand in front of it for hours, waiting for what's inside of it to change. For this reason, the refrigerator is suspenseful, too. The refrigerator is an art gallery, as well, displaying the art work of children the world over, and the magnets of Paula Deen. Recently, the refrigerator has added a new role to its repertoire: dispenser of sage advice.

Caroline and I have the magnetic alphabet on our fridge. In the past we have used the letters to declare our love for such gems as Dirty Dancing Havana Nights, and Brazilian house boys. Today, with nothing but candy and orange soda inside the fridge, the outside is imploring us to remember that which many forget at this stressful time of year. These words of wisdom give us pause, and declare our love for the Mother of All Wins: The Dance Party!!! Here's hoping the fridge inspires you this season:

NEW YORK, NY: Simply Having a _______ Christmastime (12/16/09)

I asked you several weeks ago how you feel about the holidays. Here were your options:

1) MAGICAL! I LOVE IT ALL!

2) Family time is great- I love seeing Uncle Jack (Daniels)

3) Who cares as long as there are presents?

4) I'm ambivalent and/or in denial.

The majority of you are saps. 66% of you think this time of year is magical. 16% of you are cynical lushes (Uncle Jack, you know who you are). And the rest of you are smart enough to recognize you're in denial- which tells me that you probably spend the holidays on the rocks, but keep all your turmoil locked inside just long enough to exchange what you got for what you actually want.

Really, though, the holidays always end up with one sentiment: gratitude. We may be grateful for having survived four quarters of economic hardship, or a semester at college. We might be grateful for some cool weather, and the opportunity to break out the sweaters we've been eyeing since July. Often, we are grateful for family and friends. Or we are grateful for having survived them. As the angel Clarence writes at the end of "It's a Wonderful Life": Remember, no man is lost who has friends. Wait, that's not it... Oh- here it is:

Every time a martini shaker rings, an angel gets his (or her) wings.

NEW ENGLAND: Snow (12/13/09)

The glory of New England is that it's a fully functional seasonal region. The summers are steamy. The autumns are bright red and orange with turning leaves. The springs are pink and noisy with baby chicks. The winters are cold, quiet, and peaceful.

Winter is my favorite time of year in this region. Robert Frost's poem "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening," though an endlessly studied metaphor, is, I think, actually an effective study of the cold quiet of a winter's evening in New England. Those nights are perfectly heavenly, given the right down coat...

While I was not in Connecticut for this year's first snowfall, I was present for the aftermath. Here are some pictures from my trip back north this weekend.

The ground was cold enough for the snow to stick, but the air was warming up by the time I got out to Connecticut. Not quite cold enough to freeze the pond...

Later in the afternoon the temps hit the 40s and it became very foggy.

Perfect winter weather to cuddle up by the fire with the dog and a Sam Adams, which is exactly what I did...

NEW YORK, NY: Something Wonderful: Maker's Mark Munchies (12/12/09)

As a certified ambassador for Maker's Mark, I am privy to the inner workings of the bourbon industry. Part of these workings include how to make delicious snacks with bourbon. Recently, Bill from Maker's Mark sent around a recipe to all of us ambassadors. The recipe was submitted by Kasey at the Toll Gate Cafe.

Caroline and I tried out the recipe for a cookie exchange party this weekend, to resounding success. These cookies are the best I have ever had. Take a look and try it out for yourself!:

Chocolate Mint Julep Cookie

2 sticks butter, softened
2 cups light brown sugar
2 eggs
3 cups all purpose flour (we prefer White Lilly Flour; it's a soft winter wheat - like the soft red wheat used in making Maker's Mark Bourbon)
1 teaspoon baking soda

1/2 teaspoon salt
1 cup finely ground oats
2 cups Andes Mint Chocolate Candy pieces
Bourbon Fudge Topping
2 cups melted chocolate chips (milk chocolate or semisweet, whichever you prefer)
1 can sweetened condensed milk
1/4 to 1/2 cup Maker's Mark Bourbon

Preheat conventional oven to 350 degrees or convection oven to 325 degrees. Cream butter, sugar and eggs until smooth. In a separate bowl, mix flour, oats, baking soda, salt and mint chocolate candy pieces. Gradually add to butter mixture until incorporated. Scoop out with a two ounce scoop and place 2 inches apart on baking sheet. Bake for 12 to 15 minutes in conventional oven, 10 minutes in convection oven. Allow to cool and add bourbon fudge topping.

Topping:
Melt chocolate in double boiler, remove from stove. Add sweetened condensed milk and bourbon and mix until incorporated. Top cooled cookies with warm fudge and enjoy.

NEW YORK, NY: Arts & Farts: A Feast of the East (12/3/09)

Last week I attended the opening of The Beijing Project at the Bernarducci Meisel Gallery on West 57th Street. The exhibition, which reflects an increased interest in the city following the Olympic games, is the work of photorealist painters Roberto Bernardi and Raphaella Spence.

My favorite pieces of the show were both done by Spence (who, as a sidenote, is a young, gorgeous, Italian woman whose charming multi-lingual children were running all over the gallery- in short, I want her life). The paintings are large-scope scenes of Beijing, including a street scene of a bicyclist riding toward the viewer. The painting captures a city in transition, with traditional Chinese elements, European architecture, and contemporary technology painstakingly detailed on the canvas.

The second painting is of the Forbidden City, and, given its enormous scope, has unbelievable detail. The piece reminds me of the large format museum series by photographer Thomas Struth, in that it is a huge rendering of a contemporary group of ordinary patrons, in a famous cultural setting. Medieval painting, to some degree, also strove for the kind of detail Spence creates. And from the painting, I would guess that the Forbidden City is awesome- there's a basketball hoop! And two ice cream trucks!

I recommend checking out this exhibition if you're in the area. The Beijing Project showcases some really lovely work by incredibly talented artists, and is well worth seeing.

For more information on the exhibition, please visit: http://www.bernarduccimeisel.com/current/

The image is not of the painting, and is courtesy of www.wikipedia.org

NEW YORK, NY: It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like... (12/2/09)

One of my favorite things to do in New York is to go to obnoxious places when no one (read: tourists) is around. Times Square is deliciously surreal at 1am, and, as Caroline and I discovered on Wednesday night, so is Rockefeller Center.

Rockefeller Center lights its world famous Christmas tree on the first Wednesday of December. People line up and camp out beginning in the early morning hours, just to catch a glimpse of someone flipping an LED (yay green!) light switch. This seems unnecessary to me. However, being a part of the evening is something special if you like the holidays.

Following a particularly successful evening at Wine Down on the Lower East Side, Caroline and I were riding the subway uptown when an impulse struck to see the tree. We walked through the rain and cheered when we realized that the tree was newly lit and most spectators were gone. The scaffolding was still up, and the stage was being dismantled. Naturally, Caro and I do not wait in lines or shuffle along sidewalks behind tourists, so we edged past a barricade, where we were stopped by a very tall, strong, and if memory serves, handsome policeman in a really neat hat.

"Ladies," he said, "you can't come through here. It's closed off until everything is taken apart." Caroline, nonplussed, replied, "Are you sure?" "Yes, I'm sure," he said. "But we're New Yorkers, it's okay," Caroline countered. He then assured us that nobody was actually allowed to be behind the barricade, not even New Yorkers. Nonetheless, we moved in further, and positioned ourselves in front of the tree. We asked him to take a picture of us before we went on our merry way. He laughed and obliged. Others who tried to follow our example were brutally rebuffed. We were the special ones who got to break the rules for a photographic moment of holiday glory.

As we trotted back to the subway through the pouring rain, we had what Caroline called "An Audrey Moment," which I suppose meant a late night New York moment whilst wearing cute clothes in the rain. I think I spoiled the moment when I insisted on not just a high-5, but a high-10, and proceeded to play air drums to "Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy," which I was singing.

The evening ended on a lovely note of garlic naan and cheese eggs.

It is for this Holiday "Audrey" Moment, and in honor of that wonderfully gracious and obliging officer in Rockafella Center, that I present the 3rd Submission in the Holiday Throwdown:

The Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree

The Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree tradition began in 1931, during the Great Depression. Workers who had cleared the site for the building of Rockefeller Center decided their work site needed a bit more holiday cheer, so they adopted a balsam fur tree and decked it out in all the shiny things they had on hand. Since then, the tree has grown much bigger.

The Rock Center Tree Committee takes a ride in a helicopter and spies on unsuspecting properties in the tri-state area. A tree is spotted, chosen, paid for, decorated, and admired by all. When the holidays are over, about a week after New Year's, the tree is taken down and recycled. In recent years, the lumber has been used to make homes for Habitat for Humanity.

Every time I see the tree I think about Kevin McAllister, and his farcical inability to have a vacation with his family. At the end of an exhausting evening of unlawful entry, destruction of property, and catching bad guys, he goes to the tree at Rockefeller Center and asks the tree to grant him one Christmas wish: to be reunited with his mother (his 27 siblings are expendable). He promises to be well-behaved if he's granted his wish. Suddenly, he hears his name being called out, and it's mom. I'm getting choked up just thinking about it. Christmas is saved, and it's all thanks to the Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree.

As much as I would love to be Scrooge-y about this submission, I really do like the tree. Walking down Fifth Avenue late at night when the out-of-towners are gone is just heavenly. It's the most lovely time to believe in magic and to make a wish upon a tree.

NEW YORK, NY: Holiday Spirits: My Evening at Wine Down (12/2/09)

The holidays are a time of celebration. Some festivities are somber, others silly. The most appropriate festivities, however, honor the common thread of many traditions: wine.

Last Wednesday night, Caroline and I donned our most festive Wednesday attire (somehow this included a beret) and trekked down to the Wine Down Holiday Party at BLVD on the Lower East Side (miraculously, we did not get lost). Wine Down is an event that allows you unlimited tastings of select wines for a cover charge. The wines were chosen by Gourmet Magazine's wine dude: Michael Green. To our benefit, Michael landed on his feet following the closure of Gourmet (RIP).

With the exception of the champagne that greeted us at the door (what a lovely welcome!), we stuck to the red wines. After all, sticking with one color of wine is a virtual vaccination against the Irish Flu. Before we got down to business, however, we took a "before" picture- as in, before our teeth turned purple from wine. Surprisingly, this was not much of an issue- as the wines were so good. (See the "after" picture at the bottom of this post).

Given that all the wines were affordable, there was a surprisingly delicious selection. My favorites were:

Henriot Champagne Brut Souverain NV, France. Veuve Cliquot Brut is my all time favorite champagne. You can have the Dom Perignon and Santana DVX- when I think of a champagne that I want to drink every day- I reach for the yellow label. I love the consistency of the bubbles that aren't quite as small and sharp as, say, a Taittinger. I also like that the taste is a little fuller with a bit more citrus than a Moet Chandon. However, this Henriot is definitely going on my short list. It's not as mood-changing as the V.C.B., but it's lovely and light. There are delicate notes of citrus and white flower, and it finishes very clean and balanced. This Henriot is a special occasion champagne, and retails for about $95.

2007 CS Cabernet Sauvignon from Napa Valley. This Cab is very smooth, and very drinkable. It's not overly complex, but the layers of flavor are lovely and delicate. Green described this pick as "Aromas of raspberry, redcurrant, tobacco and licorice. Broad and sweet, with pliant, harmonious flavors of plum, raspberry, currant, leather and mocha." I didn't taste the leather, but it definitely had the feeling of a cozy Cab to drink in a room that has many leather bound books. This is a good wine to keep in the house, and retails for about $20.

Caroline liked the 2008 Orin Swift Prisoner from Napa. A blend of Cabernet Sauvignon, Syrah, Petite Sirah, Charbono, Grenache and Zinfandel, this was definitely a more complex wine. The Syrah and the Zinfandel were strongest for me, and were layered upon by hints of fresh sage and wild berry. If you'd like to pick up a bottle for Caro, you will need about $35.

With wines like these, we had a glorious evening! The staff was friendly and gracious, and paired beautifully with the selections by Mr. Green.

For information on Wine Down, please visit: http://www.winedownevents.com

NEW YORK, NY: Atonement: Friend or Foible? (12/2/09)

Atonement is the story of two lovers separated by a felony. Although this sounds like just another story about jailbait, it is actually the story of how awful your relatives can really be when they disapprove of your significant other and testify against them in court.

The film adaptation of Atonement is very sad. I was so thoroughly dissatisfied with it because it’s too moody for me. ("Boo Hoo, I loved and lost because I have an obnoxious younger sibling. Boo Hoo.") I think there’s immense sadness but no variation. All good stories that move us must be equal parts of emotions. We connect on several levels of emotion and mentality, and stories that grip us on each level are the most powerful. Films and stories that get caught in moods are doomed (as I am often reminded- "mood" spelled backwards is "doom"). Atonement was not without bright spots, however. There were standout performances by Romola Garai (Briony at 18), Gina McKee (Nurse Drummond), and the ever Ms. Redgrave (Briony at 77). The book, however, is different.

I bought the book whilst I was going through a bourbon + The Notebook/Love Actually = catharsis stage. The book was so much better than that. McEwan is such a profoundly psychological writer- not for one moment did I misunderstand Briony or her motives as she gave her witness testimony. All the characters are afforded a point of view, which McEwan masterfully uses to tell the story, paralleling Briony's own journey as a writer. It is a must read. Part 3 is, I think, lacking in this essential depth of character understanding. However, parts 1, 2, and 4 are gorgeous. I won't say anymore. Must read.

The book gives an interesting lesson. For all my fourteen years in a Catholic school, I don't think I ever really meditated on the commandment "Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor." It seemed like the least damaging commandment to a child. "Honor thy Mother and Father" was much more a Damnation Deal-breaker (inevitably the cause of my current lack of religion). In Atonement, however, bearing witness is the one commandment to which a child fails, to disastrous outcome.

Atonement is so powerful because the whole thing is based on a simple, adolescent screw-up. It's almost a parable, with the simplicity of the error, and the severity of the consequences. It made me stop mid-page and remember myself at age thirteen, and how unbearable I was as a human being, as all thirteen year olds are. Did anything I do alter the course of someone's life? Is puberty, the agonizing transition, really a growth at all, or a period for which we spend the rest of our lives apologizing? Do we become more careful as we become adults? How often do we fall short? How much of the thirteen year old we were, remains? What a frightening thought...

NEW YORK, NY: "Throw Out 50 Things" (12/01/09)

Life, we know, is a series of transitions. Cells divide. People meet. Socks disappear in the dryer. As we move through the little beginnings and endings in life, it is important we take a moment to meaningfully decide what we will keep, and what we will let go. Relationships- to people, to objects- are grown this way. Who do we take with us as we move through life? What do we pack away and send to the Salvation Army?

The hardest part is taking stock in such a way that we aren't bringing people or objects with us merely because we've brought them along in the past. We hold on to people longer than we should. We become hoarders of novelty cookie jars and romantic turmoil. Even though this turns relationships toxic, it's hard to let go of some things.

I have two big moves coming up in the space of two months. My mother is moving everything from our childhood home into her new husband's home, and I am moving from one NYC apartment to a location as yet to be determined. In an effort to help minimize any potential packing / clutter / life drama, my mother suggested I read "Throw Out 50 Things" by Gail Blanke. To be perfectly honest, I'm not going to read this book. Self-help books bore me. However, I did read the title and I thought a lot about it, and as a fan of feng shui, I understand the importance of a clutter free life.

Off I went. I started with de-cluttering my Manhattan apartment. I made a pile of things I knew I would not miss for the next two months. I was shocked when the pile was so huge. Do I really live with that amount of unnecessary stuff every day? And that's just objects. How big is my pile of personal clutter? Who am I keeping around who is just as un-missable? Even more shocking and entertaining were the decisions I made in terms of what I needed to keep in order to be happy. Some examples from my lists are below.

What I won't miss:

Several pairs of shoes

Shirts

Kitchen utensils

Jackets

7 bags of varying sizes and degrees of formality

What I need:

An Alligator hat and Jerry-curl wig

A record player

A mirror in a mermaid frame

Towels

Bed.

What I learned from my apartment purge was not what I had always thought I would learn. I assumed I would end up with an ascetic inventory of objects that would keep me in such a state of non-clutter that my lifestyle would resemble the draconian. In fact, by focusing on the things that really get the most use, and really contribute to my quality of life, I am able to best live freely.

An interesting experiment- try for yourself.

NEW YORK, NY: It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like... (11/24/09)

Second Submission:

The Annual Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade

Every autumn thousands of people line the main avenues of the Upper West Side (Central Park West, Broadway...) to get a glimpse of the Annual Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. This marching extravaganza is a staple of the American holiday tradition. The holidays truly begin when Santa appears at the parade- or so my mother says, heaving a sigh. Waiting for the big man is not for the feint of heart. It's freezing if you don't have a flask, and most people are unlikely to see anything. The bands don't often play continuously down the route, either (it's very long), so off-camera, the parade is actually quiet.

Though the parade marchers are so freezing cold that they have the stricken expressions of refugees, each one has worked all year for their moment of glory. They have won competitions, auditioned, sweat, bled, and cried. For those that work hard all year long, the chance to be in the parade is a validation, a vindication to those who said whatever it was they did couldn't be done. I love that so many kids get a chance at the network broadcast big time. Hard work and creativity should be rewarded.

Hopefully, the warm weather we've been having holds out for these folks, because the parade truly is a magical experience. Many of us fell in love with it after "Miracle on 34th Street," and we, too, dreamed of adopting a tee-totalling legally insane homeless geriatric who thinks he's Santa Claus and buys us a house. For many, dreams of the parade begin after we see this man kick a drunk out of a sled and take his place. It's here that the magic of Macy's takes hold.

I have many fond memories of watching the parade. Does anyone else remember when it used to be followed by "It's a Wonderful Life"? They don't broadcast that anymore. Jimmy Stewart having suicidal thoughts and subsequently overcoming adversity was a bit too dark for a holiday already fraught with emotional anguish for people subjected to their families. At Thanksgiving dinner when I was young, my Grandmother used to lament that Jimmy Stewart was such a nice boy, she just didn't know why he would go and make a movie like that. Now we have the Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show, so children can discuss with their parents for the next month about wanting a puppy for Christmas, from Macy's.

Ah, Macy's, you outdo yourself every year. For those unfortunate enough to be subject to Macy's, itself, around the holidays, we will be onslaught with perfume peddlers, makeup artists saying we need "cosmetic help," and millions of tourists inching through the garland festooned department store melee.

One is unable to avoid the Macy's self-promoting spirit even if one avoids Macy's (as many New Yorkers do). In conjunction with submission # 2 I submit:

Third Submission:

The Affinia Hotel at Herald Square

The Affinia Hotel in Herald Square, haven for tourists and parade marchers, has bedecked itself with a Macy's balloon to draw the attention and dollars of balloon lovers everywhere. This is a cheap and obvious attempt to exploit, and to turn what was once a charming little marching tradition into a piggy bank of a parade. The Affinia is not Macy's, why do they have a balloon?

NEW YORK, NY: Man of the Hour (11/23/09)

Norah Jones's last album fit perfectly into what I like to call the "Bathtub Genre"- music chicks listen to in the bathtub. However, her newest effort, "The Fall," has more of a backbone. I wouldn't listen to "The Fall" at the gym, but I certainly wouldn't sit in a bathtub and pine and prune. Rather, I'd listen to this album with a double bourbon- neat, and occasionally shout "Right on!"

One song in particular struck me. It's a love song. "Man of the Hour" is straight from my diary. Read the lyrics below and you might shout "Right On!" too.

"Man of the Hour"

Norah Jones

"It's him or me."

That's what he said.

But I can't choose between a vegan

And a pot head.

So I chose you.

Because you're sweet.

And you give me lots of lovin'

And you eat meat.

And that's how you became.

My only man of the hour.

You never lie.

And you don't cheat.

And you don't have any baggage tied

To your four feet.

Do I deserve

To be the one

Who will feed you breakfast, lunch, and dinner

And take you to the park at dawn?

Will you really be

My only man of the hour?

I know you'll never bring me flowers.

But flowers, they will only die.

And though we'll never take a shower together

I know you'll never make me cry.

You never argue.

You don't even talk.

And I like the way you let me lead you

When we go outside and walk.

Will you really be

My only man of the hour?

My only man of the hour...

My only man of the hour.

(ruff!)