My position explained

I've been wavering since I posted this yesterday about putting it out there since the content is more revealing than some might think wise- but then I decided- life is short, what the heck, why not, go for it, well- you get the general idea...

I'm not really a negative person. I'm more of a glass half full kind of gal (okay, I try to be)- but yes, I can be a hater- even as I strive to see the good in each and every one of of us.  No, sometimes the only emotion worth considering is a kind of active dislike. (and according to the NYTimes, spite is good for you!!) 

Well, you'll know it when you feel it. Go for it. Nothing's worse than someone whose afraid of their dark side. Just keeping it real.

And for those among us who have no time for anything less than lofty, you have my admiration. I think.

A Bridal Shower (Bollywood Style)

A ride through pouring rain brought me to my friend Lonny's home in New Jersey and the scene of her daughter Anusha's bridal shower. Happiness, bindis and mehndied hands abounded. And for this Jewish girl from Westchester- a window in to another world.

When the Apple doesn't fall far from the Tree

I grew up in a house full of books. I didn't really understand what that meant until later, when through a friendship I would pay a visit, an overnight even, only to discover that my very delightful friend lived in a house where literary materials were in short supply, and there was no 1929 Britannica or the complete works of Trollope or Dickens laying around. I had parents who read daily, devoured the printed word, and as a result I am one of 5 offspring who are all readers as well. So when a book captivates me, I am done in. The whole day becomes a measured study of when will I get a chance to read my new favorite thing, the book which is holding me in its thrall?  And how do I stave off the finish, in which case I will no longer have the pleasure of the writer's voice in my head. In that moment I'll reflect on all the readers that have preceded me, savoring  the rapture of the written word.  For a solitary activity, it doesn't get much better than this.

(My juice glass) Ode to Dior

Back when I lived on Gay Street, I had a beautiful photo studio on W. 25th Street with  sweeping views to the south of lower Manhattan (and a great coffee guy in the lobby). What a magical place to work, think and dream. 

A Visit from the Younger Crowd

Krista and her daughters stopped in for a visit and settling her two at the kitchen table reminded me of when my girls were little. In 1995 we moved in to this house and we've seen our share of small fry tearing hither and yon. The girls' presence was a visceral reminder of an earlier chapter spent caregiving and the effort, fun and nuttiness of the early years.