Sunday, November 21, 2010

Feeling mellow today-a resolution 11/20/07

div>In the past couple days I resolved not to use Myspace time or energy reacting to things political, and transporting myself to the home of some dear friends in the sunny, beautiful clime of South Florida has only emphasized the point-life is too short!

My view as I write this


I don't usually talk politics in any setting; I normally don't relish elevating my blood pressure and taking the fun and civility out of everyday conversation, at work or socially. When I started this Myspace page and began writing about my thoughts, opining on the current political scene was the last subject on my mind!

Last week, however, I found myself reacting to some posts on a friend's site and it gave me that prickly, annoyed feeeling I get when someone colors my opinion of everything they say with a look into their political views. To be honest, most of the time I'd rather not know.

The world is full of so many interesting topics of conversation and I think I'll do my best to stay away from the political. So-no more reactions in writing!

The beauty and simplicity of the right pair of shoes 11/16/07

I felt a generous rush of satisfaction today when I found out I helped my friend Pat in her quest for the right shoe for a special evening dress. I'm sure she would have found the shoe without my help, but I pointed toward the store and suggested she look at a particular shoe there. When she went, saw, and bought the shoe I recommended it made me really happy.. I enjoy finding the right shoe for myself, so helping her was twice as fulfilling.

I am in the full throes of a late-blooming admiration for shoes. When I was younger I didn't have much interest in them; my mother had problem feet from a young age so I was never exposed to the joys of the right high heel. I had some clunky platforms in high school in the late seventies, but that was the extent of it- no slingback pumps, mules, or peeptoes saw the inside of my closet.

I stood on my feet for a living for my twenties, so comfort was a priority, and even after I needed to dress up a little for work, I bought Aerosoles in all the colors they made and called it a day.

I'm going to make an admission now about how I became a shoe addict-it was Carrie Bradshaw and friends on Sex and the City! The Manolos, Jimmy Choos, and Louboutins were like little works of art; so exquisitely hand made that you might not mind that they hurt your feet, although Carrie never seemed to feel the pain. I discovered, however, that not all beautiful Italian shoes sported stiletto heels, and furthermore, not all of them set one back $400-$500 either. Beautiful, well made Italian shoes could be had for somewhat less, and if you prowled the department store and NY sample sales, sometimes for a lot less. When I realized all this I was hooked. My first pair of Italian shoes were suede and leather Ferragamo slingbacks, purchased on sale at the original Neiman's in Dallas.

Since my first blush of addiction, I've lowered my standards a bit; these days I will purchase shoes made in Brazil and Spain as well as those crafted in Italy, but I still won't buy Chinese shoes, which are cheaply made and not up to the abuse I give them. This actually requires me to think about my purchases much more than if I was buying cheap shoes; to justify spending the money I must be able to get a lot of use out of them. This is normally not a problem because if I've invested in a pair of shoes, I like them enough to wear them a lot. It's not that I haven't made mistakes (I have) or purchased shoes on impulse (guilty as charged) but even an impuse buy merits a good deal of thought, albeit in a short time.

There are basically three kinds of shoe shopping. The first is the shopping my friend Pat did last night; shoes for a specific purpose, usually for an occasion but also for work shoes. Normally, one has something in mind, although some flexibility is paramount to spotting the right thing. It helps to have the luxury of hitting some sample sales, which require even more flexibility, but there usually isn't the time. Sometimes you'll see a great pair of shoes that you don't neccesarily need but could really enhance your wardrobe. These shoes might have to wait for a sale, maybe sometimes two markdowns, but if you wait that long and they still have the pair in your size, it was clearly meant to be.

The second type of shoe shopping involves the sample sales I mentioned above. Shopping this way is the most fun and rewarding, although you must be prepared for some disappointment; they have the shoes they have, and there is always a chance you will go home empty handed. The best way to do this is to live within driving distance of New York City. Combining the several designer shoe discounters with some end-of-season sample sales can make for a exhilarating, exhausting day pounding the streets of Manhattan-so much fun! Sample sale shopping requires some practice because it demands quick decisions about fit, color, and price; many of these receipts are stamped "Final Sale" so your decision is crucial.

The third type of shopping doesn't require quick thinking or a clean credit card because it's just browsing. The best way to do it is to go someplace with many stores and hit them all. Around here the best choice is the island of Manhattan, but in a pinch King of Prussia mall will also work (although with the traffic it might be faster to get to NYC). The idea is to put your finger in the air; figure out what's in that season and try it to see if it suits you. There are so many beautiful works of art out there that it can be like strolling through a museum-see Bergdorf Goodman; although Saks is friendlier and from what I hear they now have their own zip code! You must be comfortable trying on shoes without buying anything, though-just looking at the shoes isn't enough. Window shoe shopping is fun and informative, especially for someone who has never paid attention to the sheer variety out there; once you start looking, it's hard to stop. Remember, however, that there might not be anything that suits you in the stores. Luckily, this is only a temporary problem; just wait until the next season and try again.

So-I think I'm wrapping up to close, however, I must say a word about the sheer genius of shoes as wearable art. I am required to dress fairly conservatively for work and that's ok-I really am a classicist at heart. Shoes have become a perfect way for me to dress appropriately while indulging my semi-wild side. The other great thing about shoes is your size-there's no stigma to a shoe size and no way to change it, so even if your clothes will never be a size zero, you can be stylish while feeling good about yourself and your excellent taste!



I want my five speed 11/7/07

Sometimes I think I'm one of the last people driving a car-it seems everyone is tooling around in SUVs these days. To really feel like a dinosaur, though, all I have to do is listen to many people when they find out a I drive a -gasp-car with a manual transmission! The looks of disbelief and shock are almost funny.

Let me explain-the first car my parents bought back in 1958 was one of the first VW bugs to be imported into the US; it had a stick shift, but back then manual transmissions were the norm. That car carried me in the womb and beyond, and even after my brother arrived and we moved on to station wagons, they all had manual transmissions, probably four speeds but always on the floor. Both my parents drove them and never thought anything of it, even after manual transmissions started to become more difficult to get; especially in American cars. Certain carmakers never stopped making them, however-witness my continued use of my left foot, even into the 21st century. (When test-driving some cars before my last purchase, I did actually drive something really strange-a car with a shifter but no clutch! I think they called it a "manual-assisted" transmission. This was a pretty fancy car and well out of even the high end of my price range, but I couldn't get out of it fast enough-what a fraud!)

I first learned to drive in my teen years in friend's automatics; but it never felt real until I got behind the wheel of my dad's stick shift (it was a Toyota by then) and mastered the art of keeping the car in one place using only the gas and clutch. Starting on a hill is never a problem when you can control the car without the brake.

The operative word there is control-driving a manual gives one as much control you can take from a car-the decisions are in your head, and by extension hands and feet. The automatic transmission takes into consideration the car's speed and not much else-there are other factors to consider when deciding what gear to be driving in. And please don't ask me what the tachometer does-mine is an integral part of the instrument panel!

So-when faced with incredulous people who either find it hard to believe that a girl knows how to drive a stick shift, or find the thought of shifting through some rush hour traffic an indescribable hardship-I say-

Give me my five-speed!

Old stomping grounds 1/13/09

Jan 2009- I wrote this last winter while working close to some old stomping grounds in NE Philly. I am just as close right now, and there is another one bubbling away, however I might just let my alter ego write it. Catch you later.
Never fear-this is not about parking lots and Walmarts and is not an environmental screed; just an example of not knowing what you have until it's gone.

I've been working close to some of my old stomping grounds this week, and had to chuckle today when I drove by the site of a restaurant I worked at in the early 80s. Its name was Victoria Station and it was the brainchild and creation of some students in California. The idea was based on trains and train stations in the UK; maybe the founders were just looking for a reason to go to England and roam around collecting trains and train stuff, because that's just what they did.

One of the several dining rooms was an old railroad car, and the place was loaded with railroad signs and memorabilia, sort of like TGIFriday's except all the kitsch was real and came directly from the British Isles. This crazy place just happened to be the best bartending job/restaurant work experience of my life!

I had been tending bar for several years when I got the job; one of my good friends from high school worked there as a waitress and put in a good word for me. I always preferred working at restaurants; clubs were more lucrative, but I didn't want to deal with obnoxious drunks and ear-splitting music. I loved my regulars at happy hour, the people having a drink before or after their dinner, and getting home in time to watch Letterman (back then he was on at 12:30 after Johnny).

Some real characters came to my happy hour; memories of one of them are still with me. Steve was Hungarian and had come over in 1956. I was never sure if he had family here in the US or if they were all back in Hungary, but at some point he had learned the printing trade and owned a printing shop down the street from the restaurant. Steve could down Iced Teas like nobody's business, but he never seemed that drunk-we shared many laughs over the bar!
(Yes we know why he could drink like crazy but won't go there here LOL) Mark would come in occasionally after work and we had a blast. Sure, I was working, but enjoying myself too!

One day something happened out in California, and it was all downhill from there. Rumors that the place was going to close swirled around for months, and then the hammer fell. Mark and I came home from a couple days down the shore to find a message on the answering machine; Victoria Station was closing-by the time I heard the message, the place was closed and my job gone. It wasn't until years later, when I had moved on from the the restaurant business, that I realized what I had lost.

So-the title says something about Sportster's and Commerce Bank, and I haven't mentioned either. After they knocked down the train cars, someone hopped on the latest craze and opened a sports bar called Sportster's. I worked there briefly with some of the people from VS, but it was never the same. I moved on to selling real estate and lost touch with everyone except my one friend from high school. We moved down the shore in 1991, so I didn't even drive by the corner anymore. I don't know what happened- maybe another restaurant moved in, maybe not, but eventually a man named Vernon Hill decided he needed a bank there, and put up an antiseptic new building that still sits there today; I've passed it on my travels this week.
Wow-a little trip down memory lane-didn't I warn you that this is really for me anyway? Hope you enjoyed it too!
I just searched for Victoria Station restaurant, and found this website and book by a long-time Victoria Station employee. Turns out that the owners went to Cornell hotel school together and started the restaurant in San Francisco. They also ended up bankrupt-I might just have to buy the book and find out what really happened!
http://www.vicsta.com/

Proof that cats can swim 10/27/07



Beamer (the black cat in the picture above; next to him is his sister Lexus) went for a swim in the bay last night and climbed out to tell the tale. We think he got out the front door and went over the side after a pigeon (he's extraodinarily cuckoo about birds!) and ended up in the drink. Mark found him on the lot next door; he must have climbed up the bulkhead piling out of the water.When I got home from work last night he was still wet from his bath and a little shaken, but some time in front of the fire helped dry off both his fur and his feathers, so to speak. Mark said that when Lexus first saw her brother all wet, she hissed at him-I guess the salty bay odor brought back bad memories of her time in the bay; although the water was a whole lot colder last winter when she went in.
I hope both of them have now learned about the water all around us; they must be able to see it through the railing on the porch and out the windows, but now they understand what it's all about!.

From an email I wrote after Mark called me in DC to say that Lexus got wet:

"Did you ever wonder if cats can swim? Well Mark found out last night that there is at least one who can-that would be Lexus! Somehow she got over the railing-she has this trick of doing a running jump to get up there and Mark thinks maybe she overshot and went over. Luckily she must have gone over the end of the house because there's all that steel on the side and she seems unhurt. Poor Beamer came in and squeaked at Mark and when he went out on the deck Lexus was nowhere to be found. When he called her he heard her meowing, and after looking around on next door deck etc, he realized that she was underneath the house next door!

It seems that she had swum/the tide took her next door, and she climbed up one of the pilings at the water end of the house. Mark had to crawl around on the shaky catwalk that Gabe has under there to get to his plumbing and coax her off of the piling. She was soaking wet with salty bay water so he gave her a bath. He called me last night at midnight to tell me about it, and I called in this morning to check on her; he said she seems ok, although she hasn't bugged to play yet. I guess she's beat after all the swimming and holding on for dear life!

Needless to say they won't be on the deck unsupervised anymore.

What a night!"

So it seems that both our cats have now been in the intercoastal-chasing after birds or just plain recklessness.
They are quite a pair!

Chopping my hair off again 10/21/07

A bit about my hair and how it keeps me sane.

A couple months ago my hair looked as you see it in the profile picture, long and straight with chunky bangs. I had been wearing it like that for a while and loved it, especially the bangs, but it was summer and the ponytail was really getting oppressive. Paging through a fashion mag, I saw a Gap ad with model Jacquetta Wheeler with this amazing haircut-great bangs, but all chopped off on the back and sides.

I was so taken with it I took in to my hairstylist Alana at Art Is Salon in Brigantine NJ (thanks Alana for your patience and skill!) and started talking about doing something like it. Usually it takes me a while to decide to cut my hair once I get the idea, but this time I was SO ready-in a week I was back in Alana's chair with more pictures of Jacquetta and Siena Miller when she was making Factory Girl, and said let's do it!

What a liberation-the ponytail is gone, gone, gone! It takes me less than half the time to style even though there was a sizable learning curve, especially for a klutz like me, and is so cool and different-I love it.

So, you ask, what does all this have to do with my sanity? It's like this-cutting my hair (or growing it out as the case may be and will be again) is a sometimes drastic change that I can make to my life without really changing anything-I don't have to quit my job or get divorced to put myself into a different frame of mind.
Boredom is my sworn enemy, and it can be difficult to avoid if you also crave normality and a steadiness about life, but hair always grows back, and time is the only obstacle to changing it again. (I have other ways of combating boredom, like a job that requires a lot of travel, but that's another story).

I heartily recommend a new hairstyle for anyone who needs a change in life, especially if you've been walking around with the same hair for a number of years. Go for it!

Old hair New hair-still a work in progress.





Sands Implosion 10/20/07

Mark and I went to the implosion of the Sands Hotel and Casino last Thursday night. It was amazing to be there to witness it firsthand. I've seen many on television, including Veteran's Stadium, but being there was a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

We decided to walk down the boardwalk instead of trying to drive or take the jitney, and it was the right thing to do. The city was packed, and the closer we got to the center of town, the thicker the crowds. By the time we arrived, we couldn't get close enough on the boardwalk and decided to try the beach. The beach was wall-to- wall-people-I wish I had a picture or video of the scene. There was not one empty space and behind the crowd the water twinkled with the lights of the many boats taking in the show from the relative serenity of the ocean.

We ended up on the dune between the boardwalk and the beach, and by about half an hour before the implosion went off, the dune was packed too. The crowd was so close that I couldn't see the beach or boardwalk anymore, just the Sands tower to the right and Bally's in front of us. All the lights were out in Bally's VIP lounge and we could see the people lined up at the windows to watch the show.

At 9:30 the fireworks started-we were on the wrong side to have the best view, but saw most of them go off all around the building; lights set up inside the tower flashed at the same time. After about ten minutes of fireworks, the countdown began and ten single blasts of light and sound ticked off the seconds. The initial explosions went off, shaking the ground and taking out the support beams at the back of the building. There was a very pregnant pause, and then gravity kicked in and the tower just fell onto itself, back to front, so the last thing we saw was the Sands logo.

What a scene-everyone went crazy during the fireworks, but after the countdown there was a moment of silence that was louder than words; take a look at the video and you'll hear it. As the tower fell, the noise began again; the yells and whistles adding to the experience as the tower turned to dust.

I've been in many crowds before, but never anything like this-the entire boardwalk, beach, and dunes for blocks around was just a mass of people; I could see the ones close to me, but only feel and hear the masses.
We were both exhilarated and even though we walked the two miles home against the wind, the boardwalk flew by under our feet!

Sands implosion