Time Flies
Sunday, August 8th, 2010
Well this wonderful trip is about to come to an end…I promise great tales and pictures too. In the meantime, here is some Paris to warm your Sunday!
ot
Making Peace with my Own Personal Mad Men
Sunday, July 25th, 2010
I am the direct descendant of a Mad Man; Mad Men, actually. I spent my childhood surrounded by all the trappings of that most remarkable heyday – or really the remains of the day. The family continues to thrive in the post-mad men, super-digital, Wild West era. My grandfather’s raging creativity and risk taking in the late 1940s and 1950s set the stage for generations of us making a living in the luckiest and sometimes riskiest of ways – surrounded by remarkable people who, like us fed on good ideas and were always on the hunt and at the ready for the next thing. We were blessed with an amazing history, back-story and powerful genes. And the lot of us have all found our way into the most remarkable places. Mine is here at the helm of Forty Weeks. I’d like to think that my unearthing and nurturing of a new niche would be just the thing that would float my Grandfather’s boat – and I am sure he would be proud.
Watching Mad Men, for me has been strangely bittersweet. On one hand, it feels familiar and inviting. I am captivated as the faded family photographs come to life. And why not? I have paid close attention to and savored this new glimpse into the era (I feel like my little kid self – looking down the stairs from the second floor landing) – the design, the music and the mood of the day are all a treat for the senses. The clothes, the cars the parties are all so familiar. Even the office furniture rings real. There are the offices, the homes and the clubs (and if you are wondering about those clubs and other institutions of the day, we were terribly assimilated and that is how that worked). It is a time I had glamorized in my mind. There is little doubt that I have let the cream rise to the top and had all but ignored what I must have already known. The rise of advertising, and the culture that it propagated was a white boys club. This was the cultural norm, this was everywhere and this was the social standard. And is our collective history – not just mine but ours. And while I knew (yes I had information about where women and minorities did and did not fit in) I know it never really connected it to my personal history. And certainly, I never really allowed it to permeate my view of the day.
Along comes Mad Men. And with the new, rekindled romance of the times comes a new found take on the reality of so much of what was wrong about it. Mad Men has forced me to reconsider the role of women in my family and in our business. And to, finally process the whole of it – not just the sweet and shiny parts. And so, I will do just that. Somehow, come to terms with the glory and the shame of this era, my personal history and then tuck them away somewhere safe. Mainly because I have miles to go before I sleep and the legacy of all who came before me urging me on to the next creative challenge…not to make it right but simply because I can.
Fierce
Wednesday, July 7th, 2010
I don’t often go wordless – but this week I shall…
Check out my warrior:
Lila shoots the first bulls eye of camp this season!
My Girl Rocks
Tuesday, June 29th, 2010
she's got the beat too...
Seriously, she does… take a look at Ms. Lila getting her groove on at camp! Yes I miss my girls — and really how great is seeing this?
Lila rocks her guitar at camp
She’s Gone (cue Hall and Oates please)
Sunday, June 27th, 2010
I spend so much of my time deep in the world of Forty Weeks – all things pregnancy, female focused and important about the road to baby. Maternity fashion, breast feeding, birthing options, nursery décor, stroller choices, diaper bags and juvenile safety are the fodder of my days. Yet, my last pregnancy ended eight years ago this week. My children (blended as we are) are 19, 14, 11 and 8 (July 1). And here in my OT world things are quite different.
My two daughters have left for the highlight of their year – seven glorious weeks at camp Maine. Days spent on Echo and Sebago lakes (they are at separate camps) – filled with endless opportunities for independence, friendship and fun. We have been sending our girls to Maine for three generations in my family – it is what we do. I am so grateful that my girls get the opportunity to go off and grow like a sturdy Maine pine trees…and still I am sad.
My Facebook page is filled with the raw emptiness of my peers. All of us having sent our children off to camp for (up to) seven weeks – we are suddenly faced with a void they likes of which we never really are prepared to face (despite the fact that many of us do it year after year). Our homes are terribly quiet. There is no constant din of bickering or “mom-ing” – it is just still.
The first few days are just long – stretching out into an endless stream of hours. These are stunningly silent hours without anyone to answer to. Hours watching your beloved waiting for the “buzz” of being along to kick in (summer romance is on the way) – but stuck for the moment on the loneliness of the empty house. I would argue that the first day of camp is truly the longest day of the year…
I walked through my girls’ rooms. They are messy. No they are vile and likely public health hazards. I could be angry – instead, I am sad. I went into their bathroom –it should be power washed and sanitized – still, I stood there long enough to take in the last lingering scent of their styling products and shaving creams. I need to clean it. I can’t today.
The kitchen is quiet. The mud room stays clean all day long. There is no fight to referee. There is no one to assure me that they will absolutely empty their laundry basket before they leave the house. The girls are gone…off to have themselves some fun – free of the “real world” – nothing to worry about at all – just what the weather will be and how they will get in some extra time water skiing (Lila) or how they will land the lead in the play (Rebecca). What an amazing luxury, what good luck for them! And what a bitter sweet start to what will be a summer we will never forget….
Another Egg-celent Post!
Saturday, April 3rd, 2010
Tis the season for eggs…they are all over Passover and Easter – ritually, spiritually and design wise – they are the star of the season. A universalsign of spring and to me one of the most inspiring, perfect shapes in the world (my first diamond was a stunning oval).
I am in awe of eggs, I am moved by eggs and strangely – I am motivated by eggs. I read with complete understanding Dominque Browning’s account of her journey healing from Conde Nast and her obsession witheating eggs– truly – I get it. Eggs soothe the spirit, the eye and the soul – I don’t know why, really – but the delicate balance of the shape, smoothtexture and optimistic nature of all that eggs represent (spring, birth, life, etc.) make me feel at peace. It is in reality – in stark contrast to the very fragile nature of the egg. Breakable and difficult to mend (think Humpty Dumpty) – eggs soothe rather than rattle me. Odd, I am sure.
So in honor of the season and of course the holidays – I’ve taken in more than a few eggs with some of my favorite people this weekend.
A power-breakfast with girls at Maialino at the Gramercy Park Hotel, found Jennifer Perillo and me tucked in to a brightly lit booth brimming over with eggs. Each of us had a daughter by our sides and life was good! We had three separate takes on the Danny Meyer egg on our table:
Lila ordered the Cacio e Pepe Strapazzato – a luscious offering of perfectly scrambled eggs, pecorino and black pepper – likely too assertivefor an eleven year-old’s palate but much appreciated by me for its simple complexity and perfect execution.
Jennifer and I ordered two additional egg dishes – they can absolutely speak for themselves:
Uova al Contadino
Amatriciana Al Forno
By Saturday morning – my girls and I were ready to move west (enjoying our stroll across 17th street – making stops at Apartment 48 and Pippin). We were among the many getting out and about to make the most of the breathtaking day – blue sky, warm sun and nowhere to go – how lucky! Our destination – trendy brunch! And so where else to go – but to Cafeteria for one part food, one part ambiance and one part cool.
Of course, the joint was jumping! So we took three seats at the bar (and really that was the best part- three of us in a row – having a new kind of fun!) Rebbecca ordered three scrambled egg whites (leave it to her to find a way to make the universal egg her own) with a virgin something or other that the bartender invented just for her! I went for the Monterrey Eggs – a few fried eggs served with white beans, warm tortilla, avocado, jack cheese, (very unnecessary) potatoes and cherry tomato salsa. I added a personal dash or two of Tabasco verde for the perfect Saturday AM kick. Lila started with a blueberry lemonade and then went egg-less but ended up with no less than two orders of pancakes – another story, another time!
For now – just my wishes for an egg-celent holiday and an optimistic start to spring.
My Virtural Lunch with Jenna
Saturday, January 9th, 2010
This tweet is nothing but a stream of consciousness, with food and sports added for extra appeal – but enjoy!
I was leaving the gym (and no, I am not being a New Year’s Resolutionist, I have been at this since at least December!) and checking in with my twitterverse (Bob was driving, it was safe). Today being do or die day in football, I was overcome by the urge to reach out to my friend Jenna Borum and find out how she was spending these precious pre-game hours. Really, I was looking to tell her that the Eagles were quite obviously possibly maybe going to beat the Cowboys in this evenings playoff game.
Jenna is one of those gems that, if you are lucky, you find along the way. She is a twitter friend (and despite the fact that she blew me off last time, she promises a Maryland trip is in the works and that I am on her agenda; thus she will become and IRL friend with all the the benefits, just ask Jennifer Perillo about that) who is always one of the bright spots of my day. Jenna is clearly a better person than I am. First she is younger than me – I know this not because I have ever checked but because her name is Jenna not Jennifer. I am old and grew up with Jennifers and Julies – there was no such thing as a Jenna. Now Jenna Borum and Jenna McCarthymake up my blond and brilliant category – I dig that, we all keep evolving. Jenna is also a dedicated mother who home schools, sets trends (really she is pretty good) and blogs about real food (my passion too), motivating others on her blog and through her well composed tweets. I am telling you – Jenna rocks.
So, today – while razzing her (oy, another word that makes me sound like an antique) I was thinking how the Eagles should just eat the Cowboys for lunch. And then I started thinking about lunch. Like Homer Simpson, there were cartoon pictures of food floating above my head – really! Following, Jenna asked me if I was hosting this PMs food orgy (which I am not, that is up to the Sidmans) and I told her I prefer to host the summer Loco Locavore dinner. That immediately led me to thinking how much I missed juicy, ripe, fresh-from the farmer summer local foods, and set me off to find a way to bring some summer into our cold, wintry day. And so now, thanks to Ms. Jenna Borum – my homage to summer’s sun-kissed days served in cashmere and boots:
Humus, Black Olives and Tabouleh served on a bed of Chopped Vegetables with Oven Roasted Grape Tomatoes and Fresh Basil – aka: lunch inspired by Jenna!
Jenna Borum Inspired Summer Salad in January
Dig out Day
Sunday, December 20th, 2009
Sunny Snow Day, Casa Loco
It’s a sun shining, snow piling kind of Sunday…All this snow and it’s not even winter yet (tomorrow)! Here is the view from Casa Loco:
Lila takes the plunge!
Rosie the shoveling Golden
Operator, Can You Help Me Place This Call?
Sunday, December 6th, 2009
Long ago and far away (is the constant presence of this nostalgic preface in my writing a sign that I am tipping over into the next phase of life? I certainly hope not) – Sundays were about calling home. Long distance rates were lowest on Sunday – and in particular on Sunday night. And back in the day (there I go again) we would all commit a part of our Sunday to calling our parents and grandparents. As I got older, and the telecom business and rate structure in the US changed (feel free to ask Bob, he can expand on this one) this all disappeared into a fuzzy memory.
But still, on Sunday morning I wake up ready to take on the New York Times, the Washington Post, a big cup of coffee and make my family calls (we were a little more well off than others, it was okay to call on Sunday AM – oohh – fancy). And even this morning, though many years have passed and my house is full of children (mine!) in varying degrees of sleep, I have this undeniable urge to pick up the phone (the one no longer connected to the wall) and dial CE2-7479. This was my grandmothers’ phone number – Mommom’s exchange was ”CC” which stood for ”Center City” in Philadelphia where she was the reigning and undisputed queen of the Philadelphian, the very stately apartment complex where she lived in apartment t 14-C-42 with breathtaking views of the Parkway, Museum and the city. I pass this building every week on the train en route to NYC. I want to hear my Mommom’s voice as she listens intently and responds to my excited tales of life as me (nothing changes) with her own unique brand of sage sound bites, well-earned from having lived through one of the most reliably fluctuating, advancing and startling centuries of history. And she did not just show-up – she lived. And set an incredibly high standard for what it meant to connect with others in this world, something I aspire to along with her unique brand of being a female company head (long lunches at Bookbinders on 15th street followed by check signing with scotch and her Parliaments come to mind) not to mention her sense of style (oh she had it!).
My grandmother died in 1998 (Thanksgiving – weekend, right after Lila was born). Born in 1908, she was one the truest characters I have ever known. My Mommom was flawed and fabulous all at once. And also, one of the biggest fans I would ever have. And I think often how she would react to this crazy new world, would she (as I suspect) reduce it all to the very basic precepts (Men can’t help themselves – um , Tiger Woods) or sing it in Cole Porter lyrics (When grandma whose age is eighty in night clubs is getting matey with gigolo’s – anything goes um, Cougars)? Would she stand behind my choices (I am sure of it) and laugh along with me though the long days here at Casa Loco (she would certainly enjoy my stories circa 2009 but she would not want to be part of the chaos)? Would she suggest I go see her “guy” for something (a piece of jewelry or an oil change – not matter what she had a guy)? Would she tell me to keep it up while at the same time telling me to do less (yes, likely)? She never saw me as a mother – or in a successful marriage. And really this is what I wish the most…that I could tell her how good and lucky my life is and how I wake up every day saying, in the words of Cole Porter “ It’s delightful, it’s delicious, it’s de-lovely” and in my words – this life of mine is good – beyond expectation, how I wish you were here to share it with me – I miss you…
Friday, 5pm – southbound…
Saturday, December 5th, 2009
I had used one of my coveted first-class up-grade coupons for the Acela and scored not only unlimited java but also an amazingly comfortable and private seat aboard the train. Ahhh…
Having read through my papers, the day’s papers and considered the amazing day I’d just spent with the Ingrid & Isabel team (as well as Nicole Feliciano who more than impressed me in our strategy session) – I moved on to less cerebral matters. I cleaned out my bag. Exciting, maybe not, but I learned a great deal (did you know that I have about three different mechanisms to pull my hair back in my bag , for example).
I am sure there are some important, even incriminating things that can be gleaned from the following list. However, I am going to put it out there anyway – because it is Saturday and where else to go but off topic! So, without further ado, and in the spirit of OT posts (and because you know you are dying to know) – a list of things commonly found in my bag:
I pod (lately listening to a lot of Joni Mitchell, John Mayer and Pete Yorn)
Metro /Subway cards (DC and NY)
ORE makeup bag filled with assorted and essential product including sugar flirt lip balm by Fresh, Chanel #40 ombre l’eau eye color and Eliz Arden Pure Finish powder
sugar flirt (color and treatment!!!)
Business cards – mine and others
Mints – I am very partial to fresh mint and wintergreen – I simply loathe spearmint
Blackberry – that is a lie – it is usually in my hand – loaded with pix of my kids, Bob and things I find funny, offensive or inspiring (most recent picture taken, is this jacket for Lila’s approval)
Lila's ski coat for consideration from Paragon
Amtrak ticket stubs
Hotel keys I forgot to turn in – sorry Chris
Money (yeah, that comes in handy) including Canadian currency for when I have to cab it in Toronto.
My handy dandy notebook and pens – this probably should come first!
Reading glasses
Sunglasses
Hand sanitizer (to ward off the yucky germs)
Bliss Body Butter lemon and Sage Hand Cream (to ward off the hand sanitizer)
lemon+sage body butter
In the words of someone older and wise than me – and now you know!