Recently I had the funnest time ever, reuniting with a couple of my bffs from college. Prior to our arrival, our hostess had requested our cocktail preferences - I'm easy, I've been drinking vodka on the rocks with a Diet Coke back for so long that it used to be vodka rocks with a Tab back. I was the first to arrive and was asked if our other friend had fallen upon hard times financially and I replied that I couldn't imagine that this could ever even be a possibility and asked why - "Because the wine she asked for comes in a box". We both looked at each other, our eyes wide with horror - as if our pal had announced she was becoming Republican.
I know this wine-in-a-box concept is becoming increasingly popular but I just don't see myself jumping on that bandwagon (although given my knees and body type, I'm pretty sure physics would prevent that from happening. Ever.).
Wine & I have a somewhat contentious relationship anyway so I tend to stay away BUT in the highly unlikely event that I were to be offered a glass of something like a Pétrus or Châteauneuf-du-Pape, well, then I would be delighted to accept but I can assure you under no circumstance would it be served from a box.
Coming soon! Château Mouton Rothschild en boite! Nope, I just don't see it happening.
Don't get me wrong, I love the newfangled - I couldn't live without my laptop, flat screen, cell phone, iPod, etc. and I can Google info faster than a speeding bullet - especially considering I come from a generation to whom "Google" was the surname of a cartoon character named Barney - but I'm afraid I will never accept wine in a box. I'm a boxist.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Sorry, Oprah.
Please let me begin by saying that I have nothing but the utmost respect and admiration for Oprah. She rocks. I would, however, like to address the concept of the A-ha! moment that she seems to have made so popular.
Who are these people having A-ha! moments anyway? I can only imagine that they might be young people, who haven't really yet had the pleasure of having life really screw with them - or, perhaps the preternaturally and insanely wealthy, who can throw money at almost anything (and yes, sister-woman, you would fall into that last category).
I can really only speak for myself, although I am going to go out on a limb here and speak for the many - I don't know anyone who has the luxury of having a genteel A-ha! moment - if we are having a moment at all it is far more likely to be a WTF?! moment.
Like, I am only now coming to grips with the idea of being middle-aged but realistically, what are the odds of me making it to 106.
It is only now just dawning on me that it may indeed be my ears that are crooked and not the glasses.
Giving oneself a last quick check in the rearview mirror and seeing the sun reflect off of some errant chin hair.
So, while both could indeed be seen as "teachable" moments, the A-ha! moment illicits more of a "Huh. What do you know?" response - the WTF?! moment illicits something more akin to a "Jesus-tap-dancing-Christ, what in the name of all things holy is going on here!" response.
And so, I just thought, that in the words of the philosopher, Morissette, "You, you, you oughta know".
Sorry, Oprah.
Who are these people having A-ha! moments anyway? I can only imagine that they might be young people, who haven't really yet had the pleasure of having life really screw with them - or, perhaps the preternaturally and insanely wealthy, who can throw money at almost anything (and yes, sister-woman, you would fall into that last category).
I can really only speak for myself, although I am going to go out on a limb here and speak for the many - I don't know anyone who has the luxury of having a genteel A-ha! moment - if we are having a moment at all it is far more likely to be a WTF?! moment.
Like, I am only now coming to grips with the idea of being middle-aged but realistically, what are the odds of me making it to 106.
It is only now just dawning on me that it may indeed be my ears that are crooked and not the glasses.
Giving oneself a last quick check in the rearview mirror and seeing the sun reflect off of some errant chin hair.
So, while both could indeed be seen as "teachable" moments, the A-ha! moment illicits more of a "Huh. What do you know?" response - the WTF?! moment illicits something more akin to a "Jesus-tap-dancing-Christ, what in the name of all things holy is going on here!" response.
And so, I just thought, that in the words of the philosopher, Morissette, "You, you, you oughta know".
Sorry, Oprah.
Saturday, June 18, 2011
I am Switzerland.
I moved to Montana in 1992 with four friends of mine. I moved here sight unseen but with the faith of Ruth when she was doing that whole "whither thou goest" thing. Two of the four had been students in the Drama Department at The University of Montana in the early 70's and while there were a lot of friends who still lived here - it didn't take long for our household to be noticed.
Suzie, the only one who already had a job here before we moved, had an article done on her in our local paper about a week after we got here - she was the first female stockbroker in town.
John had made a big enough impression twenty years earlier that he was being recognized lo, these many years later. You see, John and our friend, Steve, had made their own versions/remakes of: The Godfather, Gone With The Wind, and The Bible so John would meet people at parties who would say, "Hey, I was in your Gone With The Wind. I was one of the dead in the burning of Atlanta!" Or, "I did my dance final at the opening of The Godfather!" - which oddly enough actually had been a possibility. Also, John loves to entertain and does it magnificently.
Suzie & Mark moved into their first house that fall and since I was only going to be home a little less than half of the year, it seemed to make sense that I would stay here with John & Tony.
John & Tony have been together, unable to marry, for 33 years now and the three of us have made an odd little family for almost 20 years. We have complimentary strengths (and weaknesses) and make a good team. Some of my particular areas of responsibility include (but are not limited to): the assembly and disassembly of the pool; the barbecuing and slicing of any cut of beef that requires being sliced thinly and on the bias and the rolling of, let's call them, herbal cigarettes. There is one further role that I play - the role of Switzerland.
For the first few weeks after we arrived here, Tony had remained in New York to fulfill business obligations. This was also early in the decade or so of John thinking that he was successfully hiding his smoking from Tony. Although since all of the rest of us smoked back then it was easy enough to hide, I suppose. It was, in fact, as I was taking a cigarette break and Tony, who was now in Montana and working on his garden asked me, "Has John been smoking"? I am not a particularly good liar, so I just looked at him and while exhaling said, "Oh honey, I really couldn't say". Truth be told, I was pleased with my response and momentarily considered a life as a diplomat.
Many years later, on a rainy Saturday in early May, John and Tony had gone out shopping. This is an exercise that often ends in tears and this was one of those times. As soon as they got home, Tony came down to my room and said, "Boy, is John is a mood today". "Oh honey", I replied, "I am sorry to hear that". Several hours later, as John & I were on our way to a Derby party, with Tony to follow after a bit, and as John folded himself into my small-ish car, he gathered his jacket about him, straightened up, eyes wide and said, "Tony is being im-possible"! Stifling the urge to giggle, I busied myself with the buckling of my seatbelt and said, "Oh honey, I am sorry to hear that".
We have now lived together for so long that everything has become short-hand and I am able to read the full meaning into looks that cover a wide array of topics including:
I am Switzerland.
Suzie, the only one who already had a job here before we moved, had an article done on her in our local paper about a week after we got here - she was the first female stockbroker in town.
John had made a big enough impression twenty years earlier that he was being recognized lo, these many years later. You see, John and our friend, Steve, had made their own versions/remakes of: The Godfather, Gone With The Wind, and The Bible so John would meet people at parties who would say, "Hey, I was in your Gone With The Wind. I was one of the dead in the burning of Atlanta!" Or, "I did my dance final at the opening of The Godfather!" - which oddly enough actually had been a possibility. Also, John loves to entertain and does it magnificently.
Suzie & Mark moved into their first house that fall and since I was only going to be home a little less than half of the year, it seemed to make sense that I would stay here with John & Tony.
John & Tony have been together, unable to marry, for 33 years now and the three of us have made an odd little family for almost 20 years. We have complimentary strengths (and weaknesses) and make a good team. Some of my particular areas of responsibility include (but are not limited to): the assembly and disassembly of the pool; the barbecuing and slicing of any cut of beef that requires being sliced thinly and on the bias and the rolling of, let's call them, herbal cigarettes. There is one further role that I play - the role of Switzerland.
For the first few weeks after we arrived here, Tony had remained in New York to fulfill business obligations. This was also early in the decade or so of John thinking that he was successfully hiding his smoking from Tony. Although since all of the rest of us smoked back then it was easy enough to hide, I suppose. It was, in fact, as I was taking a cigarette break and Tony, who was now in Montana and working on his garden asked me, "Has John been smoking"? I am not a particularly good liar, so I just looked at him and while exhaling said, "Oh honey, I really couldn't say". Truth be told, I was pleased with my response and momentarily considered a life as a diplomat.
Many years later, on a rainy Saturday in early May, John and Tony had gone out shopping. This is an exercise that often ends in tears and this was one of those times. As soon as they got home, Tony came down to my room and said, "Boy, is John is a mood today". "Oh honey", I replied, "I am sorry to hear that". Several hours later, as John & I were on our way to a Derby party, with Tony to follow after a bit, and as John folded himself into my small-ish car, he gathered his jacket about him, straightened up, eyes wide and said, "Tony is being im-possible"! Stifling the urge to giggle, I busied myself with the buckling of my seatbelt and said, "Oh honey, I am sorry to hear that".
We have now lived together for so long that everything has become short-hand and I am able to read the full meaning into looks that cover a wide array of topics including:
- "He is being such a brat"
- "Why is he singing that song in his Ethel Merman voice?"
- "Where in the fresh hell has he wandered off to now?"
- "Did he just call that actor, Christopher Plumbing?"
I am Switzerland.
Friday, June 17, 2011
Psychopath? Or New Yorker?
One of my BFFs from college recently forwarded a riddle to me in an email. I answered it correctly but once I scrolled further down the page, was informed that only those with psychopathic tendencies would be able to answer this riddle. I thought that was a bit unfair since, like all of us, I have many crosses to bear but I am fairly sure that being a psychopath is not one of them. This has never been professionally corroborated but I'm going to go with the whole "innocent until proven guilty" thing.
I am however, deeply cynical. I come from it honestly though, partially nature, partially nurture. My parents liked their humour black, my siblings also possess the same sarcastic streaked black humour and my nieces and nephews seem to be coming along nicely. I myself have no children - of whom I am aware, at any rate. Add growing up in New York to the mix and voilà, entry to the fraternity of the cynical and jaded.
But everyone's world view is coloured by where they grew-up. At the age of about four or so, I began to find the whole Santa Claus, Easter Bunny & Tooth Fairy concepts quite unsettling. It was my understanding that people going about your house at night, when everyone was asleep, was called "breaking & entering". I also believe this to be the beginning of my life long battle with insomnia.
It was also around that time that my mother discovered that there was something a bit off about my recitation of "The Lord's Prayer". I mean it made perfect sense to me since, like every other child, I was merely learning by rote and repeating what I had heard. Or, thought I had heard. After launching in with a hearty "Our Father who art in heaven - Hello! what's your name" I got most of the rest of it spot on until one of the last lines: "And lead us not into temptation" - it was my firm belief that that line was: "And lead us not into Penn Station". This was still the old Pennsylvania Station and aside from the hustle and bustle of many hundreds of people, all dressed to the nines, lugging trunks and huge pieces of luggage, creating a sea of claustrophobia for a small child - there were the rickety man-(or certainly child)-eating escalators. All in all, a fairly hateful place, in my opinion, so it seemed quite logical to me that many others might feel this way as well and asking to be lead not into that sort of chaos seemed to be a perfectly reasonable thing for which to pray. It never even occurred to me that the vast majority of the world, or even our country, had to travel through my private hell, Penn Station.
So, psychopath? I think not. Life-long cynic? ¡Absolutamente!
I am however, deeply cynical. I come from it honestly though, partially nature, partially nurture. My parents liked their humour black, my siblings also possess the same sarcastic streaked black humour and my nieces and nephews seem to be coming along nicely. I myself have no children - of whom I am aware, at any rate. Add growing up in New York to the mix and voilà, entry to the fraternity of the cynical and jaded.
But everyone's world view is coloured by where they grew-up. At the age of about four or so, I began to find the whole Santa Claus, Easter Bunny & Tooth Fairy concepts quite unsettling. It was my understanding that people going about your house at night, when everyone was asleep, was called "breaking & entering". I also believe this to be the beginning of my life long battle with insomnia.
It was also around that time that my mother discovered that there was something a bit off about my recitation of "The Lord's Prayer". I mean it made perfect sense to me since, like every other child, I was merely learning by rote and repeating what I had heard. Or, thought I had heard. After launching in with a hearty "Our Father who art in heaven - Hello! what's your name" I got most of the rest of it spot on until one of the last lines: "And lead us not into temptation" - it was my firm belief that that line was: "And lead us not into Penn Station". This was still the old Pennsylvania Station and aside from the hustle and bustle of many hundreds of people, all dressed to the nines, lugging trunks and huge pieces of luggage, creating a sea of claustrophobia for a small child - there were the rickety man-(or certainly child)-eating escalators. All in all, a fairly hateful place, in my opinion, so it seemed quite logical to me that many others might feel this way as well and asking to be lead not into that sort of chaos seemed to be a perfectly reasonable thing for which to pray. It never even occurred to me that the vast majority of the world, or even our country, had to travel through my private hell, Penn Station.
So, psychopath? I think not. Life-long cynic? ¡Absolutamente!
No Degrees of Kevin Bacon
I spent many years living in the West Indies where I worked as Director of Sales & Marketing for one of the 5-star Hotels on the island during the day and then as a musician at night. Mostly to keep from killing people during the day. My musical career was, quite frankly, a fluke. I had picked up the guitar again after several years and switched from 6-string to 12-string but did it only for myself. That year, when I returned to Anguilla, it was after a devastating hurricane so I brought my guitar with me and it became a form of barter. A couple of us just brought our guitars with us wherever we went at night and it was at my friend Laurie's bar, The Pumphouse, that I began to form a musical relationship with the island's most famous musician, Bankie Banx. We looked like the number 10 when we stood next to each other; he is a 6 foot 2 inch dark-skinned Rasta with like, negative 3% body fat and then, well, me. But we played together like we were one person and made our two guitars sound like four. I figured, how often does a short, fat, middle-aged, white woman get to be a rock & roll and reggae star? I just went with it. Bankie gave me a stage name and so I became, Montana Pam.
Every year, as Jamaica had its Reggae Sun Splash, we had Moonsplash. One year, Richie Havens was our main act - so I can technically say that I have opened for Richie Havens and another year, The Bacon Brothers were the main act. Kevin and his family really enjoyed the island in those days and loved being down at Bankie's place (there is even a song about it on one of their albums). On the Thursday night of the weekend of the musical festival, there would be high end tickets sold for a fancy cocktail party and up close meet and greet with and performance by some of the musicians. We decided that year to do a Wall of Guitars - so Bankie, Jon Pousette-Dart, Kevin and his brother, Michael and I played "The Weight" by The Band - worked out perfectly - five of us, five verses - done deal. No Degrees Of Kevin Bacon.
Every year, as Jamaica had its Reggae Sun Splash, we had Moonsplash. One year, Richie Havens was our main act - so I can technically say that I have opened for Richie Havens and another year, The Bacon Brothers were the main act. Kevin and his family really enjoyed the island in those days and loved being down at Bankie's place (there is even a song about it on one of their albums). On the Thursday night of the weekend of the musical festival, there would be high end tickets sold for a fancy cocktail party and up close meet and greet with and performance by some of the musicians. We decided that year to do a Wall of Guitars - so Bankie, Jon Pousette-Dart, Kevin and his brother, Michael and I played "The Weight" by The Band - worked out perfectly - five of us, five verses - done deal. No Degrees Of Kevin Bacon.
I Think His Name Was de Gaulle
I was very fortunate to go to the same school that my mother had attended. It was, and still is, the best private Catholic girls' school in New York. In second grade, we had a new girl in our class who had sadly, and very publicly, lost her father the year before. On a November evening, Mummy came to pick me up from Caroline's 7th birthday party. She and Daddy actually had a black-tie affair to which they were going as soon as we got back but she didn't want to come and collect me from the party decked out in her party gear - she didn't want Mrs. Kennedy to think that she had considered that to be what one wore to pick-up one's child from the former First Lady's house. In the end she went with a trench coat over her slip and her penny loafers. On the block and a half walk home, I was grilled for details (keep in mind that all of our mothers were still really young women - just in their early 30's or so) - "Who was there?" "Oh, ya know, Uncle Bobby & Uncle Teddy." "What kind of presents did Caroline get?" "Oh, Mummy! You know that big Steiff giraffe that is in the window of FAO Schwarz? Well, she got that." "How lovely", said Mummy, "Who gave her that?" I stopped and thought for a moment and said, "Um... a man, I think his name was de Gaulle."
Chet Huntley in a Refrigerator Box
I have been a news junkie and lover of all things popular culture for as long as I can remember. At the age of four my favourite television shows were: The Today Show, As The World Turns, The Mickey Mouse Club, and the Evening News with Chet Huntley and David Brinkely - or, The Hunty Binky Show. Friends of ours who lived down the hall had just had a brand new refrigerator delivered that afternoon and at that age, no toy from FAO Schwarz could beat an empty refrigerator box. The daughter of the neighbours' and I were playing in the box when a pair of man legs appeared in front of the open end of the box - I looked out and looked up and could not have been more gob-smacked had Mickey Mouse been standing there; "Mr. Hunty?" Actually, I think he was just as stunned that this tiny child even knew who he was.
As it turned out, Chet Huntley was indeed a friend and dinner guest of our friends with the new fridge.
As it turned out, Chet Huntley was indeed a friend and dinner guest of our friends with the new fridge.
A Little Bit About Me (a/k/a anecdotes that get me through cocktail parties)
I was born and raised on the Upper East Side of New York, as was my mother. She grew up in one of, in my opinion, the truly great buildings in New York: 1088 Park Avenue. When I was six weeks old, we moved to Los Angeles for a year. Mummy, a died in the wool New Yorker, took a very dim view of that year but remained friends with the wife of the couple next door, with whom they discovered that frozen fruit and gin when put into a blender became - a Fruitini, for the rest of her life. Apparently, Judy, from next door's mother proclaimed me to be the most adorable baby she had ever seen. It could've been the gin - but Judy's mom was Loretta Young.
Double Dog Dare
Alright then, this is for those friends of mine who have been so kind (but clearly delusional) in encouraging me to write a blog - or something. I would have to say that I'm pretty sure that I can attribute this feeling of good will directly to alcohol and the meeting of recreational drugs with the daily meds all of us, of a certain age, must now take.
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