40 Things

I begin to write this on what is now the last day of my 30s (but finish it 4 days later). I can't believe I'm here already! Officially middle-aged! Equidistant from 20 and 60. People are coming of drinking age if they were born in June of the year I graduated high school and started college!

Oy.

I could write endless pages about the meaning of all this and woe is me this is not how I envisioned the future blah, blah, blah. Instead, I will impart to you the lessons I have learned thus far. I've tried to put them in chronological order. So for you, in honor of my birthday, a little wisdom.

1. It's sometimes hard to fall asleep or stay asleep. At this age it's OK to make noise if this is bothering you.

2. Crawling is fun, but walking is power. I can then knock things off the living room table and take sips of the drinks. What do you mean I'm not supposed to have "Scotch juice?"

3. The reason Grandpa Vic couldn't play ball today was because sometimes, even if someone has a good heart, it doesn't work so well and it just stops. This is no one's fault. Treasure the memories of silly faces and newspaper hat parades.

4. Life's Cruel Joke Lesson Number 1: Boys don't like to be kissed till their teens. But they don't get good at it till their 20s. When you are in your mid 30s and considered too old to date them and the available ones closer to your age still act like they're 4.

5. Tony Orlando is one person and Dawn is two people. It's not Tony, Orlando and Dawn.

6. Letters form words. Words form sentences. Sentences form ideas. Ideas form books. Books form information. Great teachers form enthusiasm to read and learn. Thank you, Mrs. Safran.
6a. Boys will like me more if I see Star Wars as many times as possible. Just don't try and kiss them.

7. My next door neighbor is lying when she tells me she gets x-ray vision from eating peanuts. I know this, because one day after eating peanuts she is surprised to find a toad in her shoe.

8. Karma is a bitch. It's too bad I didn't know that the people who make fun of you at school end up fatter than you'll ever be.

9. There is more to Chinese food than spareribs.

10. So I got a little obsessed with Henry VIII and Queen Elizabeth I. And what did you do over the summer, ride a smelly horse?

11. Don't run in the house with only socks on your feet.

12. The scent of pinecones, the filth of manmade lake water, the lack of bug spray, chlorasceptic cures all, the pianos out of tune, sleeping and waking up to the sound of a trumpet, peanut butter fights, writing letters with actual paper and pens. Just don't call it "band camp."

13. There is more to music than top 40 playlists. Seek out new music wherever you can find it. Find your own WLIR.

14. John Hughes.
14a. John Cusack.
14b. Trash and Vaudeville, Revolver Records, Little Ricky's, Postermat, 99x, Unique, Antique Boutique, Zoot.

15. Laughing at myself preempts others from laughing at me.
15a. (This is when I should have learned to walk in high heels.)

16. So I can't use magic markers instead of semi-permanent hair dye?

17. Boys suddenly like kissing! Too bad they aren't very good at hiding who else they're kissing.

18. My social security number.
18a. David Lynch, Forbidden Zone, John Waters, Werner Herzog, Evil Dead II, The Coen Brothers, Wong Kar Wai, Chinese Ghost Story, Dolomite!
18b. New York City is best on foot.

19. A loud street and my own room is way better than sharing space with someone crazy.

20. Taking a year off school and getting a job will motivate me to finish what I started.

21. (This is where I should have learned that one should never turn down an opportunity to stay in a rock band or study in a different country because of a boy).

22. That magical elixir of tequila, triple sec, simple syrup and lime. And chili con queso.

23. (This will be the first and last time my major came in handy for employment.)

24. Did I learn nothing from number 19?

25. Seriously, NOTHING?

26. Lots of stress can be channeled into using a tool that can solder an elbow joint as well as it makes creme brulée.

27. Home is only 4 more stops on the F train and worth the extra effort.
27a. There is a reason that train starts with F.

28. I have very understanding and loyal friends.

29. When driving across country and listening to Fleetwood Mac's Rumors, it's a definite sign a marriage is ending when you wish you were already broken up like Stevie Nicks and Lyndsey Buckingham. Or wondering which field to dump the body in.

30. The ones with fur are the only kind of crazy roommates who are enjoyable to be around.

31. It's more fun to sit at the bar.

32. Aaaaaaand see item number 4.

33. But wait! You can be friends with your ex!

34. That was a lot of Jameson.
34a. Flowers do not open door locks.

35. It's never too late to learn a new skill set and switch careers, make new friends.
35a. Grenache, Syrah, Mourvedre, Mencia, Cab Franc, Cot, Nebbiolo, Sangiovese, Uva di Troia, Aglianico, Viognier, Pinot Gris, Riesling, Falanghina, Greco di Tufo, etc, etc, et every delicious cetra.

36. Going to sommelier school would have been a better idea if I already worked in restaurants in my younger years.

37. See number 23.

38. Throwing a going away party for a part of your body you have to take out is a very nice gesture, considering all the trouble it's caused.
38a. After being given Dilaudid intravenously, I know I must never try heroin unless I am certain the world is ending within the next hour.

39. "You have failed at more things than most people have tried."

40. So why not do more things?

Manhattan Cocktail Classic Roundup

(Don't worry. It's mostly pictures...)

It was that time a year again. And what a time it was! Since I sadly won't be making it to Tales of the Cocktail in New Orleans this summer, I gave myself permission to indulge at the Manhattan Cocktail Classic (though not the gala at the Public Library) instead.

Seven events. One liver. Here's a recap:

Saturday: Pegu Club, Stories Behind the Bar. I had heard how great this booze-infused lecture by owner Audrey Saunders, about her way up in the cocktail world (I almost said "cockisphere" and realized that just. wasn't. right.) had been the year before. I anticipated the same type of experience this time round. But instead we (myself, my dear friend Ruth and a small bunch of enthusiasts) got a valuable cocktail lesson from head bartender Kenta Goto, plus a full bar set courtesy of Erick Castro and Plymouth Gin! We learned which drinks to stir and which to shake and why, by making them and tasting the right and wrong way side by side, then how different proofs also affect flavor. Then Audrey herself gave us some pointers. A really great and worthwhile afternoon in a beautiful bar that I wish I could visit more often.

I knew that after this I'd be going for Japanese food. This was clearly a job for the Kamikaze Toucan dress!

Later, my friend Liza constructed a temporary sculpture from the bar set.

Sunday: The British Invasion party at Eleven Madison Park. After a week of flawless sunshine, of course right in time for an outdoor party, the weather shifted into what became a vicious cycle of misty gray. No matter. The "patio" (a.k.a. outdoor covered entrance) was fitted with tables, a Beatles cover band, a bar, Union be-Jacked wait staff, a bull dog and clever art direction for a smashing good time.

BEST dang fish and chips I ever ate. Lots of. 

Penny the bulldog. No British Invasion can be without one (especially one this sweet and cute!). Photo courtesy of Jason Bylan.

The Crooners, who played great selections of the Beatles catalog from Skiffle beginnings to psychedelic finish. You haven't lived till you've heard "Helter Skelter" performed live in an NYC thunderstorm next to a park. 

Shake it up, baby now! (sorry so blurry, was also twisting and shouting while shooting).

Oh, and I should mention another small detail. Servers who went round with teapots filled with Negronis, topping off those who had them. I had them. And then I had more. And then we went to Molly's and I ordered a Negroni there too. Hey, it was May British Invasion Day, not Judgement Day!

Monday (a.k.a The Boozy Doozy): Death's Door Gin Pig Roast at Hearth, Indy Spirits Expo, Yo Ho Ho and a Bottle of Rum and Espolon Tequila party in Marble Cemetery.

Somehow, my insides still stained bright orange Campari, I got myself up and made it to Hearth by noon for this spectacular feast. A whole pig was brought in by Wisconsin's Death Door Spirits and the folks at Hearth cooked it up any which wonderful way they could, cracklings and all.

And they made a cheese luge.

YUM!!!

Later that day, great chats with peeps at the Indy Spirits Expo, which I didn't get to stay at terribly long before Rum and Pirates back at the Mother Ship (Astor Center). Fantastic discussion led by Dave Wondrich, Ed Hamilton (a former rum-runner, now heading the Ministry of Rum), cocktailian and general wiseman Dånny Ronen and Ron Zacapa's Danny Valdez. Awesome seminar, where we learned, among many things, that there were Jewish pirates! There is actually a book called Jewish Pirates of the Caribbean (although my brother-once-removed Jason pointed out it should be titled My Son, the Pirate). I want to read it! Dave made us a fab rum cocktail and Danny Valdez treated us to some divine Ron Zacapa XO.

Still time to make it to the last hour of the Espolon Tequila party in Marble Cemetery. Beautifully art directed, great friends to hang with, decent bites of food, but they ran out of juice for cocktails before the party ended! Not to mention, they should have done more to honor the dead besides having us drink over them. But still, a very cool happening I'm glad I got to be a part of.

Here's me in the shadows toasting by a grave (courtesy of Jason, as is the image above).

You always know you've had a great time when you find fun treats in your purse the next day. Here's Bruce with some things I found in it. He can never resist a photo op. 

Tuesday: Mysticism and Magic, Connecting Spirits With Their Unique Cultural Heritages. 

One last trip to the Astor Center Bar before the class, where representatives from Portland Cocktail Week were shaking things up at the bar. And yup, they put a bird on it! (Psst. They had a stencil and spray bitters. Genius.)

Mysticism and Magic was a great way to end four days of quality (mostly) imbibing. It was a seminar led by self-proclaimed drinks geek Andy Seymour, Del Maguey importer Ron Cooper, cocktail instructor extraordinaire Steve Olson, bartender and theologian Misty Kalkofen, Tippling Bros. cofounder Tad Carducci and another spot with Zacapa brand manager Danny Valdez. This was a discussion where the spiritual and spirited met with humor and cultural significance. Salud!!

All in all, a fantastic four days using our great city as the ultimate backdrop. Thanks to curator Lesley Townsend for making it all happen. 

Where I've Gone Wrong: A Resume Update

Well, gee, guess this is where I've been going wrong these past couple of years! Posted on Huffpost Comedy this week. Here I am with the professionally-written resume, two different versions even, and the painstakingly written cover letters. Week after week applying to want ads, hoping for a response.

It's mostly been like fly-fishing in the Dead Sea.

With the occasional bite from someone who is clearly just curious to meet me, but has no intention of actually offering me a job because I'm either slightly too inexperienced, or so overqualified they think I'll get bored. Or they have no intention of paying me with actual currency. Those are fun. How could you do this to people in a recession? Why get their hopes up at all? Just give it to me straight, will ya? Instead of the sick, twisted time-waster of a mangler you've just put me through. Or just don't call me. Trust me, you'd rather keep your anonymity in my grudge-ridden existence.

So to that end, for your pleasure, here is my updated resume. Don't think I won't use this.

OBJECTIVE

To finally be compensated for my talents and justify my lifestyle with less debt. And get some use out of those dress pants I bought "just in case" that I'd get too much cat hair on if I only wore them around the house.

PERSONAL ATTRIBUTES

• Talented daywalker considering the persistent insomnia.
• Able to multi-task as long as you don't keep coming at me with irrelevant details and let me get one thing done at a time.
• Strategic accessorizing with pinpoint accuracy.
• Can drink like Marion Ravenwood in Raiders of the Lost Ark, but shake off the hangover as long as I have access to coffee and bacon.
• Team player, especially when ordering takeout (often has own change).
• Proficent at Microsoft Office Suite with creative use of Excel, especially hidden data. I'm like the Witness Protection Plan for spreadsheets. They won't ever be found or harmed again.
• Guilt-tripping people in the banking and communications industries for instant credit.
• Uncanny ability to discuss Tudor History in accurate detail when I've forgotten something you've just told me or the two years of Spanish I've been trying to learn. 
• Total freak magnet.

EXPERIENCE

• To paraphrase my brother-once-removed, I have failed at more things than most people have tried.

EDUCATION

• Can still recite all of Jabberwocky after memorizing it in the sixth grade. 
• In addition, have managed to get this far in life with eight years of classical piano training, four years of tennis, did OK in public high school despite missing a lot of gym class, six years of non-conversational French, a Medieval History degree, a minor in writing, kick ass metalsmithing, labor-intensive enameling, easy-way-out bead stringing, Quark, a sommelier certification, an online cocktail training certification, completion of a course in food writing and am currently going for a graduate marketing certification. 
• Astounding avoidance of math, science or US History.

REFERENCE

• Here, have one of these business cards that was handed to me at an event last night. 

Heads and Shoulders

I'm back, dear readers! Sorry for the long silence.

I've had a lot to think about this month. It is ten years ago that my marriage finally choked on its own vomit and I once again became a single lady. I have now been on my own as long as I was with my husband! And I have to say, as often as I've done things flying solo like curl up watching movies on a rainy Saturday night, taken a vacation, gone stag to weddings and parties, dined in the presence of other couples and awakened in a big bed, I know I am better off and happier now than I ever was. And all the relationships I've been in (you take the good, you take the bad) and friends I've met could never have happened in my old life. Plus I think no longer having to wait forever to use my bathroom sink on a daily basis has kept me young and relatively sane.

It is also ten years ago this month that the magnificent Bruce Lee Cat found me on a cold night on the corner of First Avenue and First Street, aka The Nexus of the Universe! The vets said, "He's fully grown at this size [6 lbs]."

Yeah, right (30 lbs)!

And as willful, sneaky and neurotic as this half-wild Oce-Tiger is, there is nothing like having this purring motor lull me to sleep or lying with his head on my shoulder.

So it's fitting that this month I saw a movie that put a lot of this in retrospect, the beautiful "Certified Copy," directed by Abbas Kiarostami and starring Juliette Binoche and William Shimmel.

To summarize without giving too much away, Binoche (luminescent as ever) portrays a French, single mom of a teenage son and antiques dealer living in Tuscany. Shimmel has written a book about art and antiques copies that intrigues her, and she invites him to visit her shop. They end up spending a day together visiting the village of Lucignano. They are mistakenly identified as a married couple by a woman running a cafe, so, for fun (????) they mutually agree to spend the rest of the day pretending they've been together fifteen years despite the fact they only just met. It is also at this point that language begins to toggle back and forth between English, French and Italian, which I enviously listened to Binoche speak with ease and familiarity of rhythm. (Though I have good comprehension, I can't seem to speak French without sounding like Howdy Doody choking on tennis balls. Maybe it would help if I smoke?)

They all-too-easily begin to mimic the arguments, struggles, misinterpretations and exasperations a couple who has been together this long fall into. It is shockingly realistic.

The part that got me is when they have an argument about a statue in a fountain that is said to depict true love. Something subjective becomes a fundamental problem. To him, the gesture of the woman resting her head on a man's shoulder is only vulgar, romantic mush. To her, it is about trust. The woman in the statue can trust the man to carry the weight of her world on his shoulders. She has someone to rely on. That is true love personified according to the statue's artist.

It made me realize the crux of what was wrong in my marriage and that my husband and I had chosen to be together when in reality, he too misinterpreted what I needed from a good shoulder lean. I'm glad we never got to fifteen years and arguing in Tuscany for real. And relieved my only single mothering is with Bruce.

But someday, in this crazy life I've come to lead, I do hope to finally make it to Tuscany. With someone with really fabulous, strong shoulders.

Guest-Blogging for the Dizzy Fizz

I done guest-blogged for Selena Ricks and The Dizzy Fizz. Check it out!

The day ended up being a lot of fun and I got to play with cocktails in public for the first time. Excited they got an action shot, but definitely need to work on my form. Dislocated wrists and cocktails, not very sexy or enticing.

Looking forward to more events and guest-stints.

At Home She's a Tourist

 (Photo courtesy of Metromix. Thank you for sending the link via Twitter!)

Nights like these remind me why I'm not ready to give up on New York City.

It started with dinner with my partner in crime, John, at Porsena, the new Italian joint in the former Mingala space (aliva shalom) on East 7th St., opened by Sara Jenkins of Porchetta. Service was kind of spotty, but the food was worth it. That braised octopus salad followed by spicy lamb sausage ragu and pistachio panna cotta is well worth an occasional Weight Watchers point annihilation let me tell you. I even spotted Top Chef's Gail Simmons waiting for a table as we left.

This was leading up to our big plan of the evening, to see Gang of Four at Webster Hall.

Back when I was 16 and living in suburban CT, I heard "I Love a Man in Uniform" on WLIR, the radio station out of Long Island I listened to religiously despite patchy reception so far away. It was dance music, I guess, but dissonant and difficult, like jumping out of a cake and realizing you're at the wrong party, but you go with it. I needed more! Off to Rainbow records of Ridgefield I went. Sadly, they were out of the album I thought I wanted, Songs of the Free, but the guy behind the counter insisted I not go home without a copy of Entertainment, their first, and best, record. He was so right. My life was never the same since.

Entertainment, as someone said this week, is ANGULAR. Crunchy guitars. Funky bass. Syncopated drums. Sour chords. Ten point vocabulary words. Politics. Anger. Heartbreak. Cacophony. And somehow it all comes together to create something at once sonically beautiful, with tangible melodies gluing it all together. The minute the record finished I turned it over to play again. And again.

This was 1987 and unfortunately, much like many of my most admired bands of the time like the Clash and Bauhaus, they had pretty much broken up by the time I came to them. They reformed briefly in the 1990s, but I was told they sounded far too commercially polished and would break my heart if I saw them play in that incarnation, so I didn't see the tour. Then a few years ago, the original members got together for a reunion tour and I had to see it. They did not disappoint. All the raw, focused energy was there, as though they were still living in 1970's and 80's Leeds under Thatcher, and they stuck to their most respected early material.

Gang of Four has a new album out, Content, and only two original members remain. There are some decent songs on it, including a rare paired down slow track that sounds good on them. But to me, most of the rest of the album plays like an attempt to recapture their old glory without fully trusting their now advancing ages and experiences. Still, last night's show was wonderful. They played some new tracks but the vintage material like "Ether, "Anthrax,""Not Great Men," "At Home He's a Tourist,""Cheeseburger" and "To Hell With Poverty" ("...we'll get drunk on cheap wine!)" really got the house shaking. The audience responded with incredible respect. Not a lot of contact (except for this one Nancy Spungen wannabe) considering the incendiary nature of the songs. They even played "Man in Uniform" to my surprise and delight, and ended the last encore with my very favorite, "Damaged Goods" ("...I'm kissing you goodbye!").

 (another courtesy of Metromix)

During the show I found out my dear friend and brother-once-removed, Jason, was back from Milwaukee after two weeks away and lots of friends were gathered farther downtown at the Village Lantern to see our pal Joe Walsh perform with his jazz quartet. There was just enough time to hop in a cab and catch bits of the last set. So glad I made it. Jason had just suffered a big loss and I missed him. Plus I somehow always never make it to Joe's shows (nothing personal, kid, you know I love you). Hearing him croon standards like the best of 'em and hanging out with great friends was the perfect way to hunker down and close out a frigid NYC night.

Sure, I'd probably have a decent job and more affordable bang-for-buck housing if I could gather my courage to leave this town for a new life. But then how could I ever have nights like these? As Gang Of Four ask in "All We Want": "Could I be happy with something else?" No, because I still have "...the hope that does not fade."

Forty by Forty

It's been nearly a month since my last post! Whoops!

You see, I've been busy. As I said last time, I decided to get a jump start on my new year's self improvement plans by beginning before Christmas and pledging to stick through it at least past March. These include but are not limited to: installing and finally using Rosetta Stone Spanish, looking into and actually enrolling in graduate marketing certificate courses (start Tuesday the 25th), setting up my new soda maker and making my own seltzer and infused flavors, actually reading the links I bookmarked... and joining Weight Watchers so I can finally lose that, gulp, FORTY (!) POUNDS I've gained since 2004. That's like half the body weight I took off in a fell swoop between my senior year of high school and end of my freshman year of college. The weight I swore would never creep back up again and turn me into one of Those Middle-Aged, All-Black-Wearing, Chunky Jewelry, Clothes-Tugging Ladies.

You've all been so kind. "Surely you don't need to drop that much." "You'll be a stick!" "Shut up and have another cocktail." Yes, I do. No, I won't. That's exactly the behavior that's made things worse. And stop calling me "Shirley." I've been in denial about this the past couple of years. Blaming it on my lady bits surgery, hormones and of course, the legacy of the Bush administration. Deluding myself that due to vanity sizing I'm totally getting smaller by working out, balanced by eating more guacamole and drinking more margaritas. But photos don't lie. To paraphrase Judd Nelson's John Bender in the Breakfast Club, I've been pushing maximum density here.

A couple of friends who are like me, who like to... imbibe and have a personal welcome message on Open Table have had some success with it now that the company has changed its weight loss strategy to realistically fit into the lives of people who, face it, have better places to expand than the Ground Round. If these particular friends can do it, so can I. And so I am.

I'm on Weight Watchers. Man, I hate saying that. I'd almost rather tell people I liked Indiana Jones and the Crystal Skull. Which, because I have eyes and ears, I don't.

Things have changed quite a lot since this meant eating nothing but cottage cheese (quite possibly the most revolting thing ever), grapefruit and things you could mostly see through.

(I highly recommend clicking on this link to see more of these with added commentary. I laughed so hard I think I earned 15 "activity points," don't ask, just by viewing these. Note: not recommended after applying a fresh coat of mascara.)

I am not here to promote this. I am no spokesperson. I don't eat to forget. You see, I've spent a lot of time the past couple of years eating to remember. And I have a lot of great friends and family who like to, uh, share those memories with me. So this has been kinda tough. It often means I have to stay at home all night with just Bruce Lee Cat after inhaling my daily points allocation (kill me), now usually sans that requisite few glasses of vino to match my culinary achievements, so I can indulge at other planned times during the week. It means a lot of extra walking in the never-melting-snow and slush. It means I'm often benched from fun cocktail gatherings knowing I won't stick to seltzer with 10-points-a-sip temptation smack in front of me. And most painfully, avoiding most of the whisky and wine I've staked my profession on out of love. 

It means for the next few months my life feels a bit like I'm listening to it on a pair of lonely, crappy headphones. And that I've become a really cheap date.

But it's working! As of press time, seven weeks in, I'm twelve pounds down! Even with the now more occasional sanity-restoring food and drink outing. Like yesterday, at the King Cole Bar at the St. Regis, if I couldn't have this Perfect Manhattan now and again when the moment's right, well, I might as well have my taste buds shaved.

I turn the big four-oh in June. That's how much needs to jump ship (actually, it's more like a boat) before then. Forty by forty.

One delicious point experience at a time.

Oy.