What a Difference a Door Makes

For those whose know me well (especially the members of my immediate family), I have ranted on occasion about not having a bathroom door (since Mother's Day or May 13th to be exact). The door and the hardware had to come off so that my capable husband could paint the door jamb (left unfinished from our bath restoration in 2010. ) The goal of the project morphed and James decided he had to paint the door itself. Granted, this bathroom is off our bedroom, and fortunately we don't seem to require a lot of privacy from each other in this area (not true). Over three months later,  I was starting to feel a little nutty.  James can be very particular about his doors, and the amount of time it takes to restore one to his level of perfection can be a little maddening. (along with  the hinges and screws which had to be stripped to the metal, primed and repainted.) So, here we are, achieving another milestone in our lives, the return of privacy. Last night James rehung the door. (I have been a little insistent.) He did a wonderful job and it looks fab. Now I wonder how long will it take to get a doorknob and a lock. (Don't ask- inside family joke.)

Wedding Happiness

James and I went to a beautiful wedding on Saturday. My friends Mark and Rebecca celebrated making their vows with elan and love. Nothing is nicer than watching two great people make a heartfelt commitment in front of their families and loved ones. I wish them many many years of joy, and adventure and happiness. (and they had the most adorable flower boy I have ever seen. what a charmer!)

Now That's News

I don't have to worry any more about how the New York Times keeps their reporters busy.
Shopping on camera for T Magazine at Bergdorf Goodman is one of the many important news items to grace the front of the online edition of today's paper. I don't really want to think about Syria, the election, the economy, or the environment. Just give me a noteworthy pair of wildly priced shoes any day to fill my brain that "will make my leg and my foot beautiful.... a bit unexpected for Valentino". Now that's news.

It's a Wrap

We've had a lot of fun for the last 17 days. Some true suspense. Along with way too many commercials for Revolution, the future Armageddon show, that NBC is worried that no one will be watching this fall. But, back to the Olympics, and a chance to share in the efforts of the talented, industrious, driven,  sometime scowling, and sometime ecstatic athletes, along with their nail biting parents and zealous coaches. (editor's note- I don't think I am the future parent of an Olympic bound athlete)  We enjoyed the spectacle, display, fierceness and pageantry. (Well, it was a weird opening ceremony...) And thanks to the many extremely hard working broadcast staff who made sure we saw it all, including Chang W. Lee of the NY Times who took the wonderful picture I've swiped and posted above.

Station House Jazz

Lisa Maxwell, my multi-talented friend, invited us to join her and her husband at the Hastings Station Cafe, a vintage metro-north station house that has been recently converted for its current use. Friday nights there are gatherings of jazz players and for a $5 cover charge, you can hear some world class music. Led by Rivertowns musicians Jay Azzolina and Ron Vincent, the players assemble, rotate, play their beautiful instruments with a sweet passion as the occasional train rumbles by. We meant to spent an hour or two and ended being some of the last people there. When something spontaneous, exciting and wonderful happens- it's hard to tear yourself away. So while this new venture is in place, and life allows, make your way to Hastings-on-Hudson on a Friday night. I couldn't recommend it more.

Now I Know....

what I have been doing wrong all along. I am too normal. Reading about Cat Marnell and how she does not give a f**k, I finally figured it out. I didn't do as many drugs as I could have, I did not sleep with more than one man at a time, or any women (well in the biblical sense) and for the past 20 years I have been unfailingly devoted as a wife and a mother. (full disclosure, I have considered homicide and my husband- but when I imagine what my children would think, and consider life behind bars, and all the bad karma, well, it was easier just to stop being mad at him.) Blame my parents for raising me with your standard sense of right and wrong, blame my own neuroses for steering me toward the less kinky path and blame fate that I ended up living the life of occasional suburban bliss. No wonder my memoirs will never top the bestseller list. Cat Marnell on the other hand, will surely be a household name (well hopefully not in my household) sometime in the near future.

More Thoughts

Even though my kids at 19, 16 and 14 have yet to reach adulthood- everything about mothering has changed. I must have done a reasonably good job- because they are independently minded. They seek my help, the comfort of me, they need things, they create havoc from time to time- but mostly they are on their way. As their mother, it is my job now to find the self I tucked away. The self that let itself get absorbed in them- their well being, their safety, their becoming who they are destined to become.  I know it is time to immerse myself in something beyond. Make a contribution. Lift the world in which I live. I am restless minding the hearth. There are better things for me to do. As I observe the twilight's glow on the blooms in the yard I am reminded of how temporary every state is, and how ineffable life can be.

Dinner, an old friend, and a million dollar view

I touched base with an old friend, Dal LaMagna from my life before kids and he invited me to dinner at his place in the city. It's been a while since we've had any contact, and in that interval a lot has happened. While I've been raising a family and pursuing my photography, Dal built his business Tweezerman in to a global enterprise, sold it for a very respectable sum, ran for office (a few times), produced films, wrote a book and became an investor in companies whose social mandate aligned with his very progressive and humanistic views.

Once upon a time, we spent a decent amount of time together and as we talked I appreciated all over again why I always enjoyed his company. He's a smart, funny, energetic man with all the right values. While relaxing over our meal seated on his terrace, we watched the sky deepen to nightfall. I was happy to learn of all the good things that Dal has created and accomplished since we went our separate ways. He told me about his current commitment to running IceStone USA in order to save 42 Brooklyn jobs. He's a unique individual and if there were more people like him around, our world would be a much better place.

The semiotics of gift-wrap

I've been contemplating possibility a lot and how it is often better than actuality. The prospect of a dinner out, seeing an exhibit, taking a trip. It's as though in the free floating space of the future, our hopes and dreams can take flight. A while back, a friend gave me a gift from the Chanel store. I knew this because of the distinctive gift wrap. The odd thing was that the idea of possibility overtook me. I  had little desire to open the gift. I liked knowing that I had something from Chanel- and that knowledge created a little bubble of excitement that might not stay the same once I had opened the package. It took me a long time to open it. I think I annoyed her in the fact that it took me so long to do so. Its contents was a set of Chanel make-up brushes- perfectly fine. But the reality of the package unopened brought me far more pleasure than the gift itself. Another reminder of how tantalizing is often the unknown.

Thinking like an Olympian (sort of)

We've been slugging our way through s hot spell and I'm weary of pushing forward. Unable to sleep well at night, my rest interrupted, means I wander through the daylight hours unusually piqued. The house stays in its more or less okay condition, and we all find various way to do very little while trying to appear that we are still fascinating in our lassitude.
Watching the Olympics and the athletes in their four year op to go for gold reminds me that trying harder than ever is still the best way to achieve anything. Tomorrow sounds okay, but today is absolutely better.

Moonlit Storm King

We took a quick ride last night up north to do a Lunar Walk sponsored by the Storm King Art Center in Mountainville, NY. This is a new venture for the museum and it was an intriguing way to experience the property, the sculptures and how this amazing place felt at night. There were all sorts of intrepid souls who were there for similar reasons to ourselves and the mood was buoyant with the sense of adventure.

One sculpture in particular, Spencer Finch’s Lunar whose surface (made of light emitting diodes that are powered by the scultpures' solar panels) had a beautiful glow. From a distance, watching my fellow visitors drink in its presence under a distant full moon seemed liked an illustration for something otherworldly.  In my imagination, nymphs in flowing dresses were dancing an ode to its celestial light.

Kathy

Last week, Kathy came to visit and it was lovely. We share such a deep history, and were both hurt in indescribable ways by the same powerful person (although Kathy ultimately, more deeply than me) and I admire Kathy so much, that it was pure happiness to have her here.  In the history of my life, she is an important person, and having her back in my life as my friend is a wonderful thing.