Results tagged "Southampton"

“I can’t believe I forgot her formula”…

As my eyes locked with those of the cashier. “I can see it on the shelf — it was the whole reason we came to the store today… I’ll be right back”, as I grabbed the three year old, my other hand wrapped around the infant carrier strapped to my chest. I didn’t miss the moans and exasperated sighs from the lengthy line behind me… “She’s just getting the milk for her baby, the poor thing” I heard the cashier attempt to explain.. As if I were some feeble creature, obviously in need of guidance.

Was I the poor thing, or my baby? We hadn’t yet paid for the rest of our groceries, and 30 seconds later when I returned with the infant formula, the glares of hatred that I received didn’t have to blink twice before reminding me that this is August. August in the Hamptons… and what took me so long? Didn’t I notice the other people waiting? The people that don’t live here year round and shop in this very store at least twice a week. The people that never forget ANYTHING. And the people that don’t seem to realize that, despite having dropped college-tuition-amounts of money to be here, they are in fact, on vacation…. which I happened to just look up on Google and, despite my attempts to cause ruin, still means ‘An extended period of recreation…A period of time devoted to pleasure, rest, or relaxation’. How could I be so selfish?

But this comes as no surprise… in fact, the surprise only comes when the random act of kindness appears — such as the woman yesterday that commented on how well behaved my son is. That, coming from someone that just described waiting in the deli line for a grilled chicken breast as “Hell on Earth”. Because, dear Lord, WHY does she have to wait. Why are the deli-people doing this to her? What did she ever do to them? Don’t they know? WHY DO THEY HATE HER SO MUCH?

But they don’t. They don’t hate you — that is to say that they don’t want to hate you. You spend your money here… which in turn makes the big bad economy go round, so please — be welcome. But really. What is with all the stress? The anger? This might be typical New York and you might be trying to relax, but before you get into that car and attempt to speed demon yourself down main street, TRY HARDER. Some people are backing out of parking spaces in vacationer euphoria — THEY DON’T SEE YOU COMING.

Because, I know that you paid for what they think the Hamptons should be — which is each individual’s definition of high priced perfection. But please, your vacation is stressing me out. Watch that blood pressure, and lay it on back… We have a few weeks to go.

_____

This post is being repeated over at Southampton Patch… because it’s fun to share.  You can go there, or stay here… do whatcha like.

Subtitle: Ryan doesn’t get her shopping center…

via Curbed Hamptons

But, believe it or not, this really wasn’t about me. I know, it really is hard to believe that a town as large as Southampton could turn its back on someone with such clout and circumstance as myself, but sadly, its true. And who cares that the developer is a really genuine business man that I know personally…. Someone that has built his independent wealth BY HIMSELF (gasp) and gives graciously to local charities. They still held the door open for his departure without giving him the respect of a blink. But, believe it or not, this really isn’t about him either.

No. This is about change. Period.

And I’m really really tired. I went to one meeting as an advocate of the Tuckahoe Main Street project, as some of you may recall, and I would have gone to more — but not only were they strategically scheduled at the absolute most inconvenient times, I also didn’t want to return to that oh-so-unfresh feeling of a recently soiled diaper being wrapped around my naked body as I gurgled and crawled on the floor, whining in order to bring attention to myself by acting like the rest of the town’s anti-change committee… That being the wall between old and new. Because SOMETHING has to change.

So while I might be at fault for not voicing my opinion as graciously those that have perfected the art of spitting on the floor and acting like a crowd of heckling fifth graders — especially when good intentions rear their ugly heads, I also didn’t feel that making myself the pregnant housewife poster child for a new grocery store was really a good look for me. Although, yes, I do have the spatula and apron collection to pull it off in fabulous and unabashed grandeur. And while you may think that I’m just whispering here on my own personal blog that only a few thousand might stumble upon, nationally… Locally, we have serious problems.

I’m not a sociologist (gasp). I’m not even into politics other than what makes for common sense, but I did own a small business once upon a time which has to qualify me for some level of the SAVVE, so bear with me while I lay it out…. Progress equals jobs, which equals revenue, which equals ECONOMIC RECOVERY. So while the current year-round residents of Southampton sit here, watching our neighbors attempt to sell their homes to move to OTHER cities and towns where OPPORTUNITIES are being CREATED, we get to see every other business closing its door due to JUST THAT. Not to mention the hypocrites that seat themselves in opposition to change — as each designer or specialty boutique in the village closes it’s doors for months at a time or indefinitely… How many of them are actually PATRONS or better yet… HOW MANY EVEN NOTICE? Or, how many of them are just like me? Shopping online or packing up on an almost daily basis to head to OTHER cities and towns where shopping is actually affordable?

WHEW, and while I catch my breath… (I said lemon in my iced water, please!) I knew this would happen. It was beyond predictable that the powers that be in our little WORLDWIDE VACATION DESTINATION would clutch the edges of their seats until the whites of their knuckles matched the hideous March snow outside. I mean, REALLY. They won’t even allow for new trees to be planted at the park in town — who was I to get my hopes up that dangerous and trouble attracting VACANT LOTS would be dealt with in such positive and hopeful dreams of infrastructure when the typical attitude takes over …“if it ain’t broke, I don’t know what is broke.” (via 27east.com) — Now that mind is just WIDE open.

Despite the rash of recent art thefts in Southampton, and apparently elsewhere on the East End, the season for art openings is HERE! [insert a ridiculous amount of applause] Kicking it all off (for me at least) are my good friends Dan Gonzalez and Raun Norquist, along with painter Joe Barnes.

If you are in the area, I highly encourage that you to stop in — if not for the serious creativity, then simply to make yourself more well-rounded. And by that I mean mentally.. not physically, like me. I do hope to attend the event (this Saturday, March 19th @ 6pm) but given my current spherical pregnant state, that may not be possible…. that is unless rolling as a form of STRUT is suddenly in fashion. I have also considered sending someone in LIEU of myself, but the last time I did that the result was this…

via guestofaguest.com

Perhaps sending a regret is more appropriate…. Regardless, I will be popping in to see the show even if I miss the opening…

As for the STEALING, one can only hope that the thefts remain purely residential, and that the taste of the robbers has improved. Otherwise, stealing bad art is just a big-0l’ waste of time…. Not to mention that the local authorities are ON THEIR GAME, “This office is assisting the ongoing police investigation,” Bob Clifford, a spokesman for District Attorney Thomas A. Spota, said in an e-mail this week, declining further comment….” via 27east.com –WE’RE WAITING.

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.”

A few weeks ago we had guests for the 4th of July weekend.

And, YES. I know how long ago that was…over a month and SEVERAL DAYS. But I know. While you were all WHAT IS SHE DOING, I was totally holding back and not telling you… Because, sometimes I get caught up in other things — like word fluency, colors, being awesome at everything while not putting any pressure on myself, and an old little Indian man who wears a leather dress with a 3 foot mohawk, carrying a suitcase with a giant British flag on it… who rides the New Haven Line at 8:40pm only to disembark in Cos Cob, Connecticut.  Okay, so maybe not in that order, but WHATEVER – do you know what’s in Cos Cob? BOATS. BOATS and DOCKS…. and cute little neighborhoods with Bed & Breakfasts and Civil War statuses… please note that it is ‘statuses’, not ‘stati’ — which is what I really wanted to use, but I could sense several frowns approaching. Also, I’m not that awesome… ask around, they know.

So yes, time is passing rather fast, as one would hope amid drought and buggy conditions… but the summer has not been without its little quirks and giggles. It feels like only yesterday that I was crossing the street in Southampton, when a Lexus convertible filled with teenagers came flying around the corner, creating a near death experience to which I reacted by holding up my hand… I mean I could have screamed and started doing jumping-jacks… but no. I thought a simple hand would suffice… which it did… but it also created a gaggle of “DUDE, Don’t be SO UPTIGHT”, among the passengers… The hand, you know, being so STRESSED OUT.

Then there was the lady at Schmidt’s Market that filled her cart to the brim with fresh local corn, only to wheel it to the register, ask the cashier how fresh it was and then decide that picked-yesterday was way too long ago… leaving the cart in the middle of everything, for everyone else to deal with… I offered to help put it back, but the cashier was too amused by the fact that the lady was on her way to the closest, more expensive farmstand… that Schmidt’s Market stocks…with freshly yesterday-picked corn.

And then there are the other things… like bathing suits on people that, ugh, just shouldn’t… tasting everything before you order, pushing, shoving, bossing, ignoring… And my favorite, hitting the horn as soon as the light turns green… no matter how many people are in front of you. I mean, come on. WHERE ARE YOU GOING? There is a beach at the end of EVERY ROAD. You can’t be in that much of a hurry unless you are on your way out of town… In which case, let me get out of your way.

But a few weeks back it was still the 4th of July, Annie and Rob were visiting, and none of these other aforementioned had happened yet. So our brains were fresh and new. We were enjoying our weekend when suddenly our Dad, who was in another state, seemed to be trying to reach us via cell phones, that had no service on the beach… Upon returning home, the caller ID on the house phone told us the same… Back and forth we kept missing each other when FINALLY. He had initially thought that one of us may have been arrested due to a missed call to his blackberry from the Southampton County Court… He immediately tried to reach us. But it wasn’t until a message actually dropped into his voicemail that the story began, but never really ended. We, obviously, weren’t in jail… and the message was definitely not intended for our Dad, but for someone else…who apparently had access to unlimited funds…

We’re still waiting on those 20Gs. And regardless of this message being mistakenly placed in our Dad’s inbox as a joke intended for someone else, OR the real damn thing, Southampton ROCKS…. And summer isn’t over just yet. Not to mention the AWE SHUCKS in NEVER KNOWING… So, please talk amongst yourselves… Who do you think it was, and how did it end?

Meanwhile… I’ll be here, husking corn, planning for a few more late summer guests and thinking about the little Indian man, with 4″ platform boots and piercings all over his body… getting off the train in Cos Cob for a little B&B, R&R… because it is August, and that’s how it should be done.

Seriously.
I need big ones.

(less than 5 miles from my house)

Because last night I went to my very first TOWN meeting, and all I can say is that I wish I had some balls. Seriously. And I have to capitalize TOWN in this instance because after listening to the rants of baffonery, my eyelids are permanently peeled back and my jaw is unattractively dragging on the floor. Of course, it didn’t help that I drowned myself in the biggest wine glass I could find after the TOWN meeting — but we are now just 5 hours shy of 24 hours ago and the overwhelming feeling of ickiness has yet to subside. So.. just what was I thinking? I mean. WHO DO I THINK I AM? Well, to start with, I am a resident of the TOWN of Southampton as well as a former small business owner. I am also a human being that likes to do silly things like… eat food, feed my family, and — on occasion, wear clothes. Unfortunately, living in Southampton TOWN also means that all of the silly little things that we like to do usually require leaving the TOWN to be accomplished. Because we are normal. We are average. We work really hard for the money and things that we have and therefore don’t have the luxury of buying all of our clothes at Saks or overpriced boutiques. Instead, we invite really wealthy people to come here to do that. In the TOWN that we live in. The TOWN that is our homebase… while we leave the TOWN to go to places like most of the country already has downtown. Places like price clubs… Old Navy… STOP-N-SHOP. And so, when I was told about a lovely new development plan for the location pictured above… One that will house a new grocery store and several retail chains… I took the giant bubble maker from the child and started running wildly around the yard chanting… SOMEBODY CARES, SOMEBODY CARES… only to end up sprawled on the grass staring DIRECTLY at the sun. 

But then, as the dictionary defines typical, a complete and total anti committee was formed resulting in last night’s meeting. I wanted to go and tell them all about how expensive it is to live here… as if they don’t already know… I wanted to stand up for the developer and say HEY THIS IS GOOD. I wanted to say, this is MY DEVELOPMENT! GO AWAY. There were some valid concerns, traffic and residential issues… but when the character attacks started my ears began to ring… And then I was all done. Frozen solid into a impenetrable block of ice… which, interestingly enough, was defying all laws of science considering the amount of sweat I was starting to produce. This was being televised. And hey… these people were being REALLY MEAN. Was I really going to do this? Was I really going to stand up in front of these 100+ REALLY ANGRY ANTIS and say… “Like, yeah, I Tooootally need to shop”… I imagined myself strutting.. how was I going to walk without legs? And then I heard myself talking… leaning into the microphone, “balls” was all that came out. I started to become one with the folding chair… I sunk down low. Then someone passed me the petition and I voted YES — signing my name… as it was ripped from my hands by an ANTI I thought… why do they need my name… and then they passed it on among each other… all noting who had voted yes… They knew. THEY KNEW IT WAS ME. And when the ring leader stepped to the podium to ask if anyone had anything POSITIVE to say, I fell hands and knees to the floor and crawled out of the room. Completely silent and without any sign of balls.

But this isn’t the end. I mean not really. This was the first of several TOWN meetings that I plan to attend in the hopes that my voice will eventually leave my brain and land somewhere meaningful. Let’s just hope that I can find the skill of public speaking while being right about everything all the time so that everyone does exactly what I tell them to. Right? Because I need this AND SO DO YOU. And all those REALLY MEAN ANTIS who were glaring at me in an attempt to burn a hole somewhere to pour the brainwash in… just give me a few days to  grow a pair so big that you’ll NEVER see me coming.    

So…while I was busy planning our spring garden, taking on a huge house renovation, designing a logo for a new Southampton shopping center, chasing after the two year old, buying dog food, making dinner, doing laundry and hiding from reality — I finally took the initiative and started another blog. Because, you know – I needed something else to keep myself busy. I needed just ONE MORE THING to over complicate the fact that all of my clothes are on my closet floor – and I don’t care. One more task to add to the list — right next to finding my inner light and saving the world. You know…

Because here’s the thing. I can’t stop.

http://willskitchen.com

I get a lot of email. Tons.

I get so much email that I sometimes miss out on really good stuff. Then I have to turn around and apologize to the sender when the over looked email is discovered. For example, The Main Street Mile is this Monday (October 11, 8:30am Main Street, Southampton) and the son of a great friend is running in it – Dylan. The Main Street Mile is a one-mile competitive run and non competitive friendship walk from Jobs and Main to The Southampton Bathing Corporation. Open to all ages and fitness levels, this family friendly event will benefit Best Buddies, an organization dedicated to fostering friendships between developmentally disabled individuals and their typically developing peers. Founded in 1989 by Anthony Kennedy Shriver, Best Buddies positively impacts more than 350,000 people every year, both within the Unites States and Internationally. Please click here to support Dylan and Best Buddies International.

I almost missed this notification and it is important to me. I almost missed this because I only have a few hours a day to do actual work and in the midst of this I try to check email. Yes, I can check email on my iphone too, but the iphone in all of it’s glory is not a keyboard and makes me feel like I have HUGE FINGERTIPS so I hate writing back on the it unless its just a few words… Like… “How Much?” or “NO”. I wish there was a way to control email above and beyond the spam and junk filters.. Wouldn’t it be great, for instance, if emails had associated scents — that way we could utilize another one of our senses before opening… case in point – an email from my Mom would smell like Chanel °5 while an email such as this would smell like bong water:

Thanks for trusting me Mr. Peter Lee.

This blog generates a great deal of email… There are the SEO Promisers; the Get Rich Quickers; the Suggesters, and the Commentors. I quite enjoy the comments, excluding the haters of course (why so angry, this is only a bloggedy blog!) and only recently was made aware of the importance of publishing them–I used to keep them secret…I’d respond, but I would hold onto them, rereading and then eventually deleting. Like a mouse collecting crumbs–weird, right? Those days are over, I’ve stopped acting like a rodent and I apologize if I deleted you. Publishing the comments, however, does not solve the issue of the amount of emails that I receive, and to avoid publishing hate mail, I prefer to approve comments before making them live. If you are here – and you’ve commented, and now you are sitting in my inbox somewhere feeling ignored–I will find you… it just might take a little while — especially with the arrival of Mr. Peter Lee’s new offer…of which I need to give SERIOUS AND POSITIVE CONSIDERATION.

Throwback Post: Would You Please Stop the God-damned Hammering!?

A lovely day, thanks to the Southampton Historical Museum… I agree with you Hayden, a little wine sipping would have been great… Hint hint vineyards of the Long Island New York North & South forks… hint hint indeed.

Continue Reading Southampton Harvest Festival…