Recently in Fly fly away Category

And here we are. A new year.

Fresh. New. Untouched. Unaffected. And oddly — feeling almost exactly like it did last year.

But that’s not reason to worry. Feeling the same as it did less than a week ago isn’t a bad thing, right? We aren’t supposed to run around changing EVERYTHING immediately, right? I mean… I suppose there are freaks people out there that say “I’M CHANGING, DAMMIT” and then, BOOM, everything is different. There’s nothing seemingly wrong with taking our time. Deciding that we want to do something, think about it… patiently… toil over the details while moving in slow motion. Quietly making the necessary adjustments before we LEAP FORWARD into new things. And I know you were picturing a graceful gazelle just now as I said ‘LEAP FORWARD’… because we are talking about the visions in my mind — and you need to see things as I’m seeing them if we are going to embark on anything together — and in no way am I referencing a leap “year”. Because I don’t think I could handle losing one entire day in 2012. No. No empty, invisible, take-away days — because this is going to be the YEAR OF ME. And you’re coming too.

I’m thinking about making some changes, and since these are life long — they do NOT fall into the evil and ever-failing RESOLUTIONS category. And — I’m not just talking about the small stuff, like this is the last Coca Cola I will EVER drink. No. I’m talking about things that would normally fall on a “Life List”, which is something that I have mentioned in “They’re safe easy to clean and do not cause unpleasant buffeting”, (those were the days)… I’m talking about speeding up the process and, for almost the first time ever, TAKING MYSELF SERIOUSLY. Like — No more soda really means NO MORE HIGH FRUCTOSE ANYTHING…. And, while we’re at it, LEARN TO WINDSURF. But there really isn’t a rhyme or reason to any of this. AND I’m going big, at least for me. Way beyond the Ten Its. My attempts to formulate a list of things that I want to accomplish in the next 40-50 years (if I’m lucky) ranges from the absurd — Sleep through the night… to the mundane — Put Christmas away… to the balls out impossible — DO SOMETHING BIGger than before (I’m open for suggestions). So, I’m speeding it up and giving myself 365 days — although I’ve already lost 4 in the planning stage. So, starting NOW. Okay. After I finish this coke.

And I know. YEAR OF ME, sounds kind of selfish and completely unoriginal. And I totally agree. I completely ripped the idea off from The Summer of George on a Seinfeld rerun the other night. Only — as we all know, the Summer of George was a failed endeavor which saw Mr. Costanza in rehabilitation to regain his ability to walk. I know. NOT FUNNY. But it totally was. Even after watching it for the 40,000th time. His only mistake was that he attempted to do it all alone. Of which, I would never do. Because, yes. I love you too.

And so… as I need to get going on a few things. I am starting the list right now. Please note that this list will change — grow and hopefully shrink with cross-outs as I SUCCEED AT EVERYTHING I TRY. Also, please note that from the boring to the laugh your ass off NEVER GOING TO HAPPEN items all fall in no particular order. Because, that, my friends is life.

• Read all the books in my house before buying new ones
• Quit High Fructose Everything
• Breathe while eating and enjoy every bite
• Walks
• Share a picture everyday
• Teach Will to read
• Teach Jo to walk AND talk
• Not so much spending
• Learn to Windsurf
• Redesign this Blog
• Travel with the Kids
• Relearn CPR
• More NYC
• Go fishing
• Will’s Kitchen, the book
• Bronx Zoo
• Write a Screenplay
• Find the right babysitter (and hire her/him)
• Find my Medium
• Garden. For real.
• Go to the Openings
• Turn conversational Spanish into fluent
• Make edible egg free pasta
• Meet Martha
• Get Jo to sleep in her own bed
• Take more pictures
• Find the right, regular, paying gig

I’m alone currently. No really — Mr. Sal is in the city and both of my children are apparently sleeping. I say apparently because, really — who knows. And when my husband complained about having to spend the evening among adults at some fabulous dinner for business, I imagined myself inhaling a self-rolled ciggy, exhaling while speaking in a British accent “I cannot imagine anything more exhilarating (emphasis on the ‘EXXXHHHHIL‘) than a trip to the city”…. which is a scene that I totally ripped from the Virginia Wolf thriller of a movie, The Hours…. Starring Nicole Kidman…. Regarding several decades of women that seem to be going through unbelievable bouts of self-exploration… which is a nicer way of saying ‘depression’. And, although I am not depressed, or anywhere near the idea of going through a ’bout’ of anything — I do have to say that it’s getting harder and harder for me to remember what it was like to not have kids. To be able to just go. Just decide to do something and then do it….ALONE. ALOOOONE… And, considering this is the second time I’ve been alone in 2011, and most likely the last — what better time to run wild with abandon and go — GO — on 2011. On the other hand, it may have been a mistake to leave me alone, and this glass of wine is delicious…. I’ll wait until morning before I publish this.

Because 2011,
CHANGED MY LIFE.
AGAIN.
(sorry, that was loud. and this post is rather long.)

In 2011, we had a 2nd baby. We had a 2nd baby just when the first baby, now 4 years old, seemed well on his way to independence. And when I think about the dramatic and early entrance that Josephine made into our lives, paired with her current ability to get pretty much anything she wants — at 7.5 months old, it’s hard not to predict that we are in it for a lifetime. And again, NOT TO WORRY, when I say ‘in it’, I am of course referring to the bliss and unbridled happiness that comes with being Josephine’s Mom. The smiles. The heart-melting coos and squeals that make up for the refusal to sleep in her own bed. Or how she spits the baby food back out at you and then laughs at your reaction. But that’s okay, as you wipe the spring vegetable surprise from your face, just LOOK at how cute she is covered in puree…. and whatever, you can just forget about your hair — you aren’t going anywhere anyway.

But I know, having just done this for the past 4 years. This time is fleeting. It really is hard to believe that she’s 7.5 months old and that Will just completed his first semester of preschool. I mean… remember back when he was two and he quit napping and I thought my life was over? I mean… it really was over, but the realization was astounding… WHAT DO YOU MEAN I don’t have time to myself anymore? That I had to put my design ‘career’ (I know, don’t laugh) on hold, sit on the floor and PLAY? I mean REALLY. I’M EDUCATED — and LOOK, now I’m playing TRUCKS? But then it stopped. He did what most do and started playing BY HIMSELF. And then I was sad, alone… sitting on the floor with my trucks (not really). And now Jo — as demanding and irresistible a baby as there ever was…. tomorrow she’ll be kicking me out of her room and demanding to pierce something.

And, I know. I’m going to get to all of the other things that happened in 2011 — I’m just taking my time because I’m still alone. That, and I just can’t get over how pleased I am with everything in my life these days. The fun little boy I have. The food allergies that he seems to be growing out of (!) paired with his need to wear a fire helmet to the grocery store. The sweetest little girl I could have ever imagined — it’s even cute when she’s slapping my face and ripping my earrings out. I’ve even been working on a few design projects that seem to be moving along nicely, and I’m happy to report that things are calm both on the friend and family fronts.

All in all, while tooting my own horn from atop the highest pedestal, 2011 was a really good year all-around.

January… My sister Annie was married to her longtime love, Rob… Which led to a reunion of sorts in seeing friends and family that I haven’t seen in years, some of which read this bloggedy blog and therefore knew way more than I did about myself…. Later, I started reading an absurd amount of anything I could get my hands on, books – magazines, newspapers, a MANUSCRIPT written by a brilliantly talented individual that also had a baby in 2011… January was also the month when I started having Braxton Hicks otherwise known as false and not funny contractions even though I wasn’t due until the end of May. Good Times.

February found Mr. Sal and I returning to Portsmouth, NH where I took this picture whist Braxton Hicking all over New England:

I may never understand why I love this picture so much other than the fact that I was a giant pregnant lady salivating over the whole idea behind this window.

Nothing happened in March.
NOTHING.
Oh come on. It’s not like I was sitting on my hands or anything, although I was waiting for something to happen. Really, nothing happened and honestly, your bravado is rather rude.
FINE. Go see for YOURSELF.

April was one of the scariest months of my ENTIRE LIFE, although it started and ended with a blessing. I kicked the month off by opening the front section of the New York Times to see a 1937 picture of my long-passed Grandaddy on page A12 (with the crooked hat). This was a HUGE surprise and one that I will never forget… It made me feel individual and incognito all at the same time…. Here was this image of a man that all but a hand-full of us recognized thus giving the paper that day an entire different meaning than anyone in the world expected it to. And while there are pictures of people in newspapers everyday, this was a once in a hundred million lives, lifetime treat.

April was going to be a great month.

It was, however, only a few weeks into the month that Josephine decided to start her attempts of escaping from my belly — one of which found me in the hospital under the guise of false appendicitis. Her Alcatraz-like plan was foiled however, mostly due in part by the numerous prayers that were heard by the powers that be. But she didn’t hesitate to try again and five weeks before her due date, Josephine Dwyer was born. After a quick incubation, she arrived home healthy and happy — that is just as long as you are doing exactly what she wants you to. April was also the month when I read a book by Sammy Hagar (hangs head in shame) in approximately 2.5 hours — an amount of time that I will always regret losing…

The rest of the year has been a bit of a sleepless/timeless/listless haze filled with the closeness of growing and playtimes. There have been moments when I stop, clear my head and listen to the news or something, but for the most part I have been in an 8 month hibernation as a full time Mom. Two kids, as I am discovering, is intense. Beyond the trip that I thought I was signing up for, but also filled with an extraordinary balance and calm. Trying to make time for myself has proved to be near impossible, but when I feel the pull and struggle to do more, I come back around. This time is precious and I’d rather be here, experiencing the lives of my kids…. A pedicure would be nice though.

And, to just sum up the rest of the year, because OMG – I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU’RE STILL READING THIS!
June – …the must in the air was a really choice herb…
July – …SOYLENT GREEN, SOYLENT GREEN…
August – …They don’t hate you…
September – …EVACUATION...
October – …Allergy kids and Lepers having so much in common…
November – …let’s all damn the man by smelling really bad…
And, December, Well. We’re here, aren’t we?

So, while not everything that happened in 2011 contributed to the life-changing handle that I’ve given it, the few things that did happen were quite large. [abundant, ample, barn door, blimp, booming, broad, bulky, capacious, colossal, comprehensive, considerable, copious, enormous, excessive, exorbitant, extensive, extravagant, full, generous, giant, gigantic, goodly, grand, grandiose, great, gross, hefty, huge, humongous, immeasurable, immense, jumbo, liberal, massive, monumental, mountainous, plentiful, populous, roomy, sizable, spacious, stupendous, substantial, super, sweeping, thumping, tidy, vast, voluminous, whopping, wide]. It’s amazing how two tiny people can pack such a punch.

And in ending, Merry Christmas my Friends — Happy Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Winter Solstice, Bodhi Day, Boxing Day, Hogmanay, Koleda, and Festivus, etc. Happy New Year. I will see you when things are fresh and new, 2012!

It’s been a week and one day since we were told to go.

And, although we returned this past Tuesday, the whole “get your family off of the island” train of thought has yet to find a comfortable place in my heart. You know, that nice cozy corner where I keep other random things like Philly Cheese Steaks, V.C. Andrews novels, Chris Botti and pedicures with extra long leg & foot massages. Because if you’re going to get the massage, why not go for the extra? V.C. Andrews, by the way, was brilliant when it came to simplifying incest. Like those kids HAD NO CHOICE, right? Step Mothers were evil, Mother in Laws were absurd… even the REAL Mothers wouldn’t flinch at poisoning their own, I mean EVERYTHING was wrong about those novels… which I still think about fondly whenever faced with being marooned during a natural disaster. Because there’s nothing like adolescent light reading for the virgin imagination, especially when paired with meat, cheese, and eclectic clarinets. I tried to add the pedicure back into that scenario, but I don’t think that the nail salon has their power back on yet.

But there wasn’t anything imaginary about this ORDER OF EVACUATION, which actually saw us vacating our home last Thursday in an effort to get ahead of the mass exodus off Long Island. And it was a quick decision too, seeing as how we had nothing to do for the weekend, really…. Aside from waiting for something–So why not wait somewhere else? And so we went. Annoyed. While I rolled my eyes all over the East End of Long Island — damning the media onslaught of what could maybe possibly happen. I jammed bags full of toys and clothes for all weather scenarios. Calmly of course, while the three year old attempted to understand the reasoning behind our immediate departure.. One minute playing outside — the next scrambling in a FOR THE LOVE OF GOD– ESCAPE!!! I packed up our cooler. I convinced the dog to get into the car. Then the kids. Chumps Are Us, I thought as I watched the Mayor of New York suggest that he might not screw up this time by shutting down New York City…. and then I turned off our TV and headed North, in-land. Fools, damn you.

On the phone with a friend as I was driving out of town I felt embarrassed. Where had my coastal mentality gone? Why was I not out stocking the house with booze for day-long hurricane parties and WHY was I driving so fast?

But in the end, it didn’t really matter. I mean — things happened here, trees down, limbs dangling, flooding, docks washed away, but the only real loss was in our gardens, which were crushed by the elements. Damages that are certainly recoverable over time. We only decided to return to find the lovely notice above when our power returned on Monday night. And we never really did escape, as the fury of all things Irene simply said “Oh – they went that way”, and followed not so lightly to, in many circumstances, worse situations.

And we were safe. And dry. And not being blown around in gale force winds that look ridiculous as they hit the news reporters on the beach. We may have acted a little typical, as we ran for cover… And the storm may have been completely blown out of proportion… But never before have I taken my cynicism by the throat and decided to go the route to safety. Kids, I tell ya.

There are a few things in life that you have to wait for. Off the top of my head — The DMV. The weather. The train that seems to be running late. The ice to melt on the wings of the plane taking you far far away. Santa. Restaurant service…The price of Saffron,  AND apparently, this post.

Because although it has almost been a YEAR, I finally have an update on our little monster of a house project up in the Berkshires. If you don’t feel like going back in time to read parts I-III, please know that while I question your intentions, I will also try to maintain the understanding that you might just have a few other things to do today. Like taking that paperclip that’s hanging on your pencil holder and flinging it over the wall of your cubicle with that random rubber band over there. Or staring out the window in mortal yearning for spring while the three-year-old wreaks havoc on his drum set — talented, yet way too young to know those AC/DC riffs by heart…. Whatever, at least he’s got rhythm. Otherwise, I have repeated the slideshows below and you are free to peruse the antiquities here:

Part I
Part II
Part III

SO… A major part of our delay on the house renovations have been due in part to having a dearly loved family member actually LIVING within it’s walls. She happens to have great taste and doesn’t seem to mind that we wander through every once in a while with paint brushes and ladders. She’s even helped a bit on some of the updates, which has been great — NOT TO MENTION that she’s living proof that one can live there comfortably even though she is still hanging around in one of the rooms we have yet to touch (of which there are several).

And, considering that we are rapidly outgrowing most of our accommodations in the Berks, we are currently moving full steam ahead on renovations. The kitchen, which we plan to eventually blow the back wall off of to allow for a giant sun room, is, in the interim, undergoing minor updates — wallpaper, paint, faux tin, flooring and new appliances. Meanwhile, plans are being made to also increase the living spaces upstairs, turning tiny rooms into larger bathrooms while somehow tiptoeing around Ms. Miss up there so as to not upset the natives… in full on political correctness,  of course.

Our hope (and we use that term as loosely as our uptight little bodies will allow) is to have the house up for rent by this summer… And if that plan isn’t grandiose, then turning this ground turkey into something delicious and savory for dinner in two hours is the only thing saving me from the depths of being UNORIGINAL. Because, really, what could be worse?

One would think that taking a little trip North would be easy enough by now… a simple road trip… no flights to worry about — we don’t even bother with the Cross Island Ferry. Instead, we act as die-hards, driving like maniacs along the border of New York City and Westchester County, braving the possible delays due to traffic build ups and congestion of competitive road ragers. You’d think that after NINE years of traveling throughout New England we would have learned our lesson. But no. We haven’t. Not to mention that within the nine years we have always traveled with the Bluedog who refuses to be kenneled; We added a child in carseat — AND are currently in the last three months before we have to add YET ANOTHER carseat for the pending babe. Next thing you know, we’ll be traveling with one of those HUGE clam shells on the top of our already oversized SUV — like a meteor sized status symbol that not only exacerbates that we ARE the spitting image of the yuppies that we made fun of until this very point in out lives, but also, downsizing is not an option for years to come….

AND SO, with flying by the seat of our proverbial pants NOT being as WOOHOO ROADTRIP as we’d like it to be or as it once was — coming home and settling back in takes about a week or two…. But this trip was special, so aside from the regular getting back into IT, there was the euphoria of reliving our lives before nine years ago… of finding things changed, but still the same. You know, SPECIAL. Almost, but not really as special as this hideously hot aired introduction… Because nine years is a really long time.

Portsmouth, New Hampshire is too cool for us. Really. I mean — there’s a good chance that it ALWAYS WAS, but when we were living there — participating in daily life, who’s to say. AND, I do have to mention that this was our 2nd trip back in the past nine years — the first return in 2005 was clouded by my career that was in the middle of slowly melting my brain… so I can’t remember very much other than copious amounts of vodka and stress…. Things are better now.

The weather was perfect -  – you know, not your usual 30° below zero for a weekend in February…Tugga tugga tugboat…

The whale wall by Wyland — the famous muralist… we think it’s time for a retouch, but it was kind of comforting to see that the scrubbing of graffiti is only resulting in exposed brick… When we were residents– walking by the wall several times a day, someone was obsessed with spray painting a giant penis on the mother whale… Not that I’m against graffiti art or anything, but there are TONS of unpainted walls to take advantage of — let alone a lesson in anatomy wouldn’t hurt. Let’s keep it real, people.

The city is as eclectic as it is historical… A lot of new construction has taken place — but it was much needed AND it is all very appropriately keeping in character with the rest of the town… Character which is oozing from ever crack in the pavement… every building — old and new. And dirty. Portsmouth is a scrappy place — grunge is comfortable here… vagabonds, seriously hard core — if its too cold for you then GOOD, get out. Smoking was banned in bars and restaurants since we’ve moved, but the live music and art scenes are still as strong as ever…

And we were such tourists! If only for a night — less than 24 hours in time where we ran around with our camera exposed. Soaking it all in as much as we could, knowing that it would only be a matter of time until we were back to New York — Long Island… where the ultimate cool is only for pretend. I took pictures of our favorite restaurants, bars, shops — But only as we were walking out the door… the sound of the locals grunting and rolling their eyes following us like a red flag through the cobble stoned streets.

(I love this window)

And then we stayed at the Wentworth which was rebuilt and taken over by Marriott — but still just as haunted as can be, I suspect — without a straight line to be found… the building was fabulously broken down and near extinction while we lived in town… I can’t decide what’s more suitable, but the stay was lovely…

Needless to say, Portsmouth remains our haven… A place where we lived for years among friends and irreplaceable memories. I can only highly recommend — and while summer is still considered the season for all of coastal New England — a visit this time of year is almost more appropriate for those of us that like to really live in our surroundings…

We are heading North.

via http://www.portsmouthnh.com/

And I know. Today was finally nice outside… meaning that 20 layers of goose downed garb was not necessary for walking outside.. So why would we go and leave this 50-something degree heatwave and go to a land where ice loves you so much that it sticks to your face? Well… I’ll TELL YOU.

I think I’ve mentioned before that Mr. Sal and I lived in Portsmouth New Hampshire for YEARS AND YEARS before moving to the bitter death end of Long Island. And yes. It isn’t quite true that Southampton is the edge of the universe — it is the Hamptons, after-all (snickering). But…. ye not be unequally yoked, SAY I! It might be all shiny and glossy on the outside… but on the inside, we are still AT THE END OF AN ISLAND. An island that is equal to that of an enormously overdeveloped sandbar… One with famous people that enjoy pretending not to be famous — but don’t you dare treat them as such… As well as the overgrown populous of Trustifarians (thanks to the two Anastasias for the terminology) … Otherwise known as self-proclaimed hippies that drive Land Rovers, only eat organic and live “status” free green lifestyles thanks to that of well endowed trust funds… Also known to cluster in popular ski resort areas, University towns, The Berkshires, and of course Portlandia. It would be remiss to say that they can’t be found in Portsmouth either… It’s just that you’re too busy scraping the ice off your eyelashes to notice most of the time — Plus, any town that reeks of Patchouli as a CLEANING PRODUCT kind of passes the not-a-poser test right away.

BECAUSE… like I was saying before completely losing track of myself, we are going back to Portsmouth later on this week. We haven’t been up for a visit in a few years and I think that if we stay here — despite the hints of spring, at the end of this void where you turn one way and see the same thing you saw two seconds ago, we might just start locking our jaws and talking like Lovely and Thurston from Gilligan’s Island… I mean — IT WOULD MAKE SENSE.

And so, whilst we are away — clamoring the ice and dirty snow mounds of the city where we once lived… in complete and total SIN… please have a nice week. Enjoy the spring-like rouse before Mother Nature notices, takes a big swig of her martini and then blasts us with another 40 feet of winter before being tempted away by the Easter Bunny… I’ll catch you cats on the otha-ahh side.

BlogHer 2011 is in San Diego this August…

And I can feel it… the shaking heads of disapproval combined with the “What?” and the “Did she say?”… When really I’m just quoting The Legend of Ron Burgundy… “San Diego. Drink it in, it always goes down smooth.”… And no… despite what many of you may think… my fingers did not ignite into flames upon typing the word vagina… although I may have to overload my head with conditioner to relieve the rat’s nest that is slowly entwining on my head… you know, with the good conditioner. Because that’s all it takes for a movie line to be burned on my brain…. That and years of avoiding bad humor repetition. Some lines will just never go away…  “I’m sorry, I was trying to impress you. I don’t know what it means. I’ll be honest, I don’t think anyone knows what it means anymore. Scholars maintain that the translation was lost hundreds of years ago.”

I was a fool at the BlogHer 2010 conference…. I went, I curmudgeoned it’s existence while enjoying every minute of my friends — AND I should have stayed in the city — released my inner need to hang. But the call of the 2 year old was too much and I disappeared before dark.  Now look at me. (choking with cheshire cat laughter)  So… what’s to come of this year? More fun… and a smaller show, I suspect — NYC being the hub of ALL — despite August and all of its sweaty attractions… I have never been to San Diego — and I really want to go. Time will tell, at this point… in August — I will have a babe of 4 to 5 months hanging off of me like a Koala… As if my addiction to Will wasn’t enough this past year, how am I supposed to leave and fly ACROSS THE COUNTRY, without the newborn? And whatever… I don’t even want to go to the real conference — with fake vodka drinkers and potato heads — I just want to go play with my friends… IS THAT SO WRONG? And, while planning the trip now seems nearly impossible, am I as selfish as I think I am for already thinking about going?… “Last time I looked in the dictionary, my name’s Ron Burgundy. What’s your name?”

I suppose I could bring the babe… but as I think of that scenario, I remember seeing Moms with infants at last year’s show… chilled in the air conditioner with tired looks on their faces. What were they thinking? And you just know I’d end up being the Mom with the Baby — IN A BAR. I mean really. I have to stop thinking about it before my brain packs up and leaves for more preferential accommodations… in San Diego.

So while I’m sitting here… in 7 degree weather, waiting for all things inevitable while trying to think of my own creative one-liners… I can at least start to think about San Diego, right? Because you’re going  — and you are — and someone is sponsoring that other person to go… and no one will notice if I just show up and crash the party, right? Because I only had a little taste of last year’s event… “I don’t know how to put this, but I’m kind of a big deal.”

A year ago yesterday I wrote this post about not going… now all I want is to GO. You may as well plug your ears and start heading in the other direction, because I’m about to whine and stomp for the next 7-8 months… thinking of good alternatives like “BlogThis” or BlogMe”.. “JustGoBlogYourself”  — Labor Day, Southampton.. — Realists need not apply. “Go fuck yourself, San Diego.”

It’s been 10 years.
TEN YEARS.
Think about it while I try to not make this post last until 2020.

Sidenote: Normally, I wouldn’t write an “end of the year” post over a week before the end of the year… but honestly, if I write about the holidays it might just equal talking about the holidays — of which I’m a little over. Don’t get me wrong, Christmas will be tons of fun, but I feel like its taking forever to get here on top of  not really being in a fa la la la mood this year… more like OKAY ALREADY. I know, so eloquent.

I actually thought to myself last night that it’s a good thing that I didn’t decorate too much because MY FOOT I don’t want to clean it all up once ALL THIS is over and done with. And please… Depressed? I have no reason to be… Hormonal? Like a train wreck…

So while I’m petitioning to skip over the next four days and wake up tomorrow with Santa squeaking right back up that chimney, AND perfecting the “It’s not you, it’s me” excuse… Please know that everything should be returning to normal in about 2 weeks…. just in time for 2011 to make her grand entrance…

swans remember everything...

In 1999, 2000 was kind of a big deal. I can remember… we were living in Portsmouth, NH — planning to fly down to Burke, VA to visit best friends for the New Year and Turn of the Century (echo echo echo). I was at the eye doctor getting diagnosed with chronic dry-eyes – aka: inability to produce tears without extreme pain when my Optometrist — a young little female Doogie Howser sat stunned when I told her that my boyfriend and I were planning to fly somewhere to celebrate…. ON A PLANE. But wasn’t I scared? Wasn’t I worried that some cosmic switch was going to flip causing our plane to enter into another dimension? To which I calmly replied – “Well, no…. I hear that 2000 is nothing compared to what 2012 is going to bring.” To which she replied by staring at me blankly — as if her mind had become like dilated pupils all fuzzy dark only to reemerge from the fog in Shangri-La, where I was no longer her patient and she could move on to lighter things… like Beenie Babies and the hideously addictive lure of the food court outside her office walls. Those crazy Druids.

And it would be completely inappropriate to go on and on about the first 10 of the 2000s without making mention of 9-11. None of us will ever forget where we were, what we went through and of course — who and what we lost. Just thinking about that day — which quickly turned into night and then weeks of torture that followed… just thinking about it makes me want to take all the insignificance of the other 9 years and cram them into one of these hideously decorated gift boxes I have laying around — only to be peered into if you want to see extreme happiness and selfless adoration of life… But then I have to slap myself in reminder that life goes on — as we were all able to prove to the universe… Life goes on, and apparently, so does this blog…

Interestingly enough, because we’re back to the really important issue at hand… My current eye doctor is perhaps the 5th most attractive man on the planet, so I’ve never had the gumption to discuss the END OF THE WORLD or flash in the pan collectibles with him out of sheer humility. Our friends from Burke, however, are beyond outgoing– no longer live in VA and now have FOUR KIDS UNDER THE AGE OF TEN. Yes that’s right, and I’ve mentioned them before in unabashed wonder… Which pretty much brings us up to date on where TEN YEARS can lead you. But not really.

The past ten years have been pretty huge for me… as I’m sure they have been for you too. No — I didn’t do anything earth shattering… but each time something changed since 2000, it’s been pretty major… And I could go into a detailed time-line, highlighting each breath and thought process that occurred, but that would just make you feel trapped… in a 10×10′ red room… without a door or window. So, you know what, I’m not even going to get into any of it… ‘It’, of course being the ten years in which I’ve moved between states, gotten married, had a child, become a dog owner, homeowner, opened and closed a mildly successful business, hung out with the devil, learned how to cook, finally grasped the understanding of the term ‘patience’, made incredible new friends AND started the journey of bringing another life into the world. And if that isn’t enough, aside from me… (because I am aware of others when they talk loud enough) many friends and family members have fought and won against life threatening diseases and physical struggles that I can’t even begin to comprehend.

It could be that there are so many things that happened within things in the past ten years that its too hard to fully grasp the enormity of it all. I mean — I’m 35 — I’ve been through three and a half ten year periods and, honestly, the other 2.5 seemed so silly… all premature and childish… Like the word ‘Decade’ is just a fly on the wall of ‘Century’, so WHATEVER, who cares. Once you’ve witnessed the turn of a century, a decade is so 1800s. And with that thought of complete senselessness, I leave you with the thought of ten years (give or take a leap year). TEN YEARS. That’s 5259600 minutes of 3,650 days… Did anything happen?

To preface this post, I receive quite a few ‘Dear Ry M. Sal’ emails with questions varying from serious life changing situations to what color to wear in accordance with one’s house color… All important issues, all with merit and concerns that I appreciate and can almost always find alliance with. Usually, when I receive these emails, I read… give them careful consideration and on occasion, have been known to answer — but only via email, which is apparently a form of biometric information, so why keep it confidential?

For the most part, I tend to immediately discount myself as being an authority on anything…laughing at the possibility that I could gleam (not glean, mind you) any sort of knowledge in pretty much any given situation… because assuming that I know the answer would immediately insinuate that I know what I am talking about… which would be completely hypocritical… and therefore completely and totally in line with this blog and everything that I do and don’t mean, right?

I have, in turn, decided to scrap my practice of only responding to the ‘Dear Ry M. Sal’ messages in private. In doing so, I really don’t have any guidelines other than keeping the subject matter and tones of topics in line with the level of discrepancy used in most of the almost daily observations found on this blog… in  other words, completely and totally irreverent with anything having to do with anything.

This first email is from a regular reader and commenter that has known me for MY ENTIRE LIFE (echo echo echo). I know — snarfing your drink through your nose never feels good, especially when its some crazy holiday extravaganza/pumpkin concoction made up by the marketing geniuses at Dunkin’ Donuts… the brains on them. Let’s try not get intimidated… MY ENTIRE LIFE (echo echo echo) is only a line in the proverbial sand, right?

Dear Ry M. Sal,
This is not a comment on this actual blog, but rather a request for advice. Two things happened today. We received an invitation to a wedding in NYC; and, we received in the mail an Urban Outfitters catalog (intended for a younger, former resident.) Of course, we do not live in NYC. My question is: Should we shop for clothes for our visit to NYC in this catalog?

I have one other question. What do you think of the phrase “cool-guy-beer-commercial beards.” I saw this phrase in a popular NYC magazine this week. As an aside, the phrase reminds me of my favorite aphorism from a beer commercial: “They don’t take anything seriously, except the things they take seriously.” Do these people live in NY along with the Urban Outfitted?
–Dave Sage

First of all, congratulations on the NYC invitation, I do hear that it is going to be THE event of 2011… who knows, maybe it will last for 364 days. My advice on all NYC dress-code related topics are all about PERSONAL STYLE — of which, Urban Outfitters has none. Yes, that is right — NONE. Case in point — you can either look like a member of the Beastie Boys when they were worth looking like, OR you can fly under the radar with a “who is that guy” understatement — always sure to draw a crowd, AND you won’t look clueless doing so. For the ladies, I feel confident in saying that no one wants to look like a cave-dweller… ugly shoes are optional. Any NYC’er will be happy to tell you that they have not been Urban Outfitted… choice of language and body usage, to boot, will be creatively entertaining. In other words… It seems that only the Urban Outfitted take themselves seriously, and you can see where THAT is getting them.

One suggestion, if you are looking for some serious advice, is to consider this hat for the evening:

The Helmut, via Etsy

Not only will The Helmut keep your head warm (considering your current tropical location) but it comes in a variety of colors that will blend nicely with the black & white theme of the evening….

As for the term ‘cool-guy-beer-commercial beards’, I am at a loss. I’d like to say that I ‘think’ I know what it means, but as I do a little research, I am coming up rebuffed. Perhaps I’m taking it all a little too seriously.

All in all, I don’t think that you should worry too much about the fashion details surrounding the wedding. You will find the crowd to be open minded and accepting of just about anything… that is with the exception of velvet (someone is rather particular). In short, and to finally end this before it gets ahead of itself, we look forward to seeing you very soon!

And in postscript of this post, if you have a question, please do not hesitate to ask -  ry@rysalcreative.com.

That’s right friends, summer is over.

Yes, I know… where have I been? Summer has been over for weeks. WEEKS — but in those weeks we still had a few extra hours of daylight… we still had a few flowers in bloom–sneaking by, and I know that I, at least, still had the ability to sit, wind-blocked –of course, with my face to the sun — eyes closed, just soaking in the rays… pretending that the last week of June is only days away. But no. Not anymore. Now we have winter on the brink…. hovering down, taunting in an effort to make us all become pessimistic and angry that soon the weather will be so cold that it could actually hurt. Because, what could be an easier choice? Either join the ranks of haters that spit on the ground whenever the temp approaches 30° OR shall we go all loopy and pal up with holiday inspired nut-bags that run amuck with seasonal cheer? Tough choice… I know. So tough, in fact that I’ve decided to ignore the thought all together and instead focus on something that will totally take my mind off of weather and seasons for a while… That’s right. I’ve decided that Mondays are now completely and totally about ME.

ALL ABOUT ME. Because, that’s what this blog is all about anyway, right – right… RIGHT?!?! And on Monday, what’s worse than thinking about Monday? Not much… really — especially when you are coming off of a fun filled weekend that never even once suggested that it was ever planning to end. Right? So right. Once again, ME + Monday = Talking about MY WEEKEND. And, I know… Nothing better. I must be a marketing genius to have come up with this one.

1. Annie is still getting married. (thank goodness) and Saturday I, along with my Mom and other sister Kate, had the pleasure of hosting her bridal shower at the cutest little restaurant you ever did see… Elizabeth, on (you guessed it) Elizabeth Street, SoHo, NYC. And yes — I almost needed an automatic arm pinch machine (those exist, right) to wake me up after realizing that I’m 35 – and haven’t been south of Houston Street in… oh… about TWELVE YEARS. But it was lovely, and I think that Annie and her crew had fun…. Not to mention that she made off with a DYSON, which is enough to make anyone’s head explode.
2. The shower was a nice reprieve to my morning drive in — screaming west down the LIE, listening to Gorillaz — Fire Coming out of a Monkey’s Head… and remembering that time that I attempted to go topless whilst on the Isle of Elba… that is until I looked over at another American who was attempting the same thing… She then agreed with me that it was weird as we both quickly covered ourselves up and went our separate ways… Driving alone can make one quite MAD you know.
3. I realized that I’m not a blond. I had many comments regarding my hair… and even though I tried — it’s time to go back to brown… I’m just going to enjoy the Courtney Love-Cobain roots a few weeks longer… if only to celebrate her new found hyphenation.
4. I could qualify for NASCAR — as I weaved my monster of a vehicle out of NYC and back east down the LIE… not thinking about much of anything other than passing everyone in front of me. All of this in an attempt to get back home where our son was in complete and total LA LA Land with his other set of Grandparents and Dad catering to his every whim…  I think he looked up when I walked in the door…
5. I need a new camera (toot sweet)… This is the only picture that I was able to take at the shower, which is beyond depressing, because it was fabulous, and all this image says is BORE.
6. I spent Sunday attempting to get back to Will’s Kitchen… 2 new recipes!
7. I also spent Sunday reevaluating my time management skills… which I am experimenting with AS I TYPE. So, in keeping with being a complete control freak and way too hard on myself about the stuff that no one should EVER even consider sweating about… I’m happy to say that I have help (again) and therefore a little more time on my hands to create even MORE things to manage. (Big Sigh) All is right with the world…

So this is it. A big ol’ Monday of me… I know… JUST what you needed! Tune in next week when I once again attempt to dazzle, shock and (but of course) inspiiirree.…