As you may know,I recently went to Paris. Having had a particularly stressful few weeks what with the holidays and end of year custom text shipments and dealing with a health crisis with Aunt Louise, I really needed to get away. Do you understand that feeling when you need to get away, but you are afraid to acknowledge it in case it doesn't happen? That is how I felt.
The day before I was to leave, major decisions had to be made about Aunt Louise. These decisions are, of course, always monitored with the help of Mother. Need I say more about my stress level?
Thankfully, every single thing came together at about 11:15 AM and I was leaving for the airport at !2:00 PM. Although Mother did point out that my timing was rather bad. It turns out that my timing was good because Aunt Louise settled into her longterm care facility just fine. There weren't even any kidnappers lurking around.
I knew that this trip was going to have a different feel when I got to Philadelphia and the lady in the Envoy lounge asked if I would like to be moved to row 1. I am usually suspicious of "gifts" so hesitated for a moment, then remembered that row 1 is the row where the seats become beds. I couldn't say yes fast enough. It was also interesting because Elizabeth is the same lady who always checks me and I stand in her line even if there is a wait. On this occasion, several ladies were just sitting there and started taunting me that I should check in with them because Elizabeth was too old. I think they were kidding; however, I stayed with Elizabeth and it was worth it.
Just anticipating having a bed made me as giddy as if Warren Beatty was picking me at the airport and driving me to Provence for the weekend. And, after my crazy few days, it was the most wonderful feeling, after the pseudo-gourmet meal, to recline and actually sleep. My friend K has forbidden me to actually book Row 1 moving forward. She says that I can justify outlandish expenditures better than Dolly Parton at a wig convention. Indeed, I am already thinking. . .now if I only took ONE trip a year. . could I splurge on the bed? Nah, just thinking out loud.
I had a lovely couple of days at the Pavillon de la Reine, a small hotel on Place des Vosges and then I moved over to what I consider my Paris spot--the Sainte-Beuve.
I arrived on Saturday and, on Wednesday, I had that day that we all hope to have when we go on vacation--that absolutely perfect day that we always reflect on and that keeps us planning vacations because it is so sublime. On a slightly drizzly morning, I took a cab to Fauchon in the Place de la Madeleine from where I was going to stroll over to Le Meurice for lunch. I left plenty of time for procuring gourmet treats and strolling. I finished up with lots of time to spare--in fact, I had an hour to kill. What to do? Angelina for their legendary hot chocolate--no, too rich before lunch;more shopping--no, I didn't want to carry more bags; oh, there's the Ritz--what about a pre-lunch glass of champagne?
I am seated on the banquette where I have sat before and enjoyed a glass of the house champagne along with marcona almonds and a selection of olives. And a USA Today. There is hardly anyone there, so I can enjoy the coziness and understated decor all to myself. By the time I leave, folks are starting to come in, especially women wearing Hermes scarves tied in ways that I can never seem to pull off.
On to Le Meurice. This has to be one of the most beautiful dining rooms in the world. It is a grand room with large windows overlooking the Tuileries. There are four chandeliers, incredible Baroque art, and much, much gilt. It is probably the closest that I--or anyone--will ever come to eating in a palace. It is worth the $$ to just sit there. But, then, there is the view of the Tuileries which, in the winter light, is somber, but stunning.
I had told myself that, having had less than stellar meals last year when I ordered the Prix Fixe menus at fancy places, I would order a la carte. One look at the menu and I had to rethink that strategy as an appetizer was around $120 and a main course was around $150. I don't mind being self-indulgent, but I do have my boundaries.
Because I loved everything on "Le Dejeuner" and because almost everyone was ordering it, I had it as well. It was luscious and rich and memorable---just like one would imagine:
Vol-au-Vent a la tour de Nesle which was a lovely rich soup with escargots and mushrooms, slightly robust, but not overwhelming.
Filet de sole braise a joinville which had to be cooked twice because the chef was not happy with the first preparation and was served in a jus d'huitres that was light, but so flavorful
Fricassee de rognon de veau a la grainte de moutarde which were perfectly prepared veal kidneys served with incredible creamed potatoes. Never did I think that veal kidneys could be so delectable.
Moka-- served as a cake roll which was fabulous although I was starting to get very full because there had also been amuse-bouches, incredible bread, etc.
For the wine, I enjoyed, in addition to a glass of Bollinger, a glass of Chassagne Montrachet 2006 and a Chateauneuf du Pape "boisrenard", both of which were so unique in their tastes--woodsy and dank for the Montrachet and velvety and rich for the red.
Feeling incredibly blissful, I climbed into a cab and was transported back to the Sainte-Beuve where I wasted no time taking a long, restorative nap.
Around 8:00, I strolled over to a place where I had been the night before called Sensing. It is a new "anti-bistro" in Montparnasse, very modern in decor. I told le directeur that I had dined at Le Meurice for lunch. He invited me in and insisted that I have an appetizer sampler with only four tastes on it, a bit of cheese, and a frozen clementine souffle. The perfect end to my day.
Well, no, not the end. I strolled back to the hotel and encamped on a couch in front of a faltering, but lovely, fire with a glass of red wine and listened to my iPod to my heart's content. The next day, I slept until noon.
If snyone ever says to you, why would anyone take a vacation by themselves, I want you to tell them about this day because it was the standard. But, not because everything was so ritzy (no pun intended). It was because there were such unexpected delights as well as moments that I had anticipated for months. Everything came together and nothing was grating. It was like a day in a bubble which is a vacation should be.
And, just to bring the trip full circle, as I was boarding the plane to Miami from Philadelphia, who spots me but a dear friend who is an employee of the airlines, also heading back to MIA. He offers me a ride home which I gratefully accept. I come out of the baggage terminal as he pulls up. Anyone who has ever dealt with accepting a ride at MIA knows what a nightmare it can be. So, the ease of jumping into a waiting vehicle was, in itself, a small miracle.
I arrived at the triplex not mopey or sad, but invigorated by running into my friend and pondering how the unexpected serendipitous moments of this trip would be with me always.
More later.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Family of One Goes to Paris
You might have heard that I will be spending a few days in Paris. I have lunch reservations at Le Meurice and Taillevent, a charming hotel (Pavillon de la Reine) for the weekend, my beloved Sainte-Beuve for next week, and, mainly, plans to wander, read, browse, and basically unhook. You may recall that during last year's visit, I was felled by a nasty flu, so I am very grateful to have a do-over in 2010.
I will be in touch when I return!
I will be in touch when I return!
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Family of One Goes to Christmas Dinner
As previously reported, I have made sure these past few years that I have my own Christmas dinner, one that compares favorably with others that I have heard about in terms of cuisine and company. I take myself to my favorite restaurant, Eleven Madison Park, in New York City. I sit at "my" table, top level, closest to the windows. I yuck it up with almost everyone who is employed there. I have my book and my iPod. I reminisce with myself about the year just past. And, of course, I eat the delectable food stylings of Chef Daniel Humm and his remarkable staff.
I found this year to be an especially wonderful experience. I'm not exactly sure why. The folks in the restaurant are still over the moon about their four star rating from the New York Times, so the mood there is glorious. Chef Humm continues to challenge himself to create marvelous food. I felt fabulous, having enjoyed a successful work year and being in a good place, so to speak. On this particular evening, there were two experiences that made it a bit unique.
I have gotten to know most of the staff well, but had never had a chance to really talk with Will Guidara, the general manager, as he has been off on most of the nights that I visited the restaurant. I had heard great things about him from my dear friends, the Rs, and, indeed, had enjoyed chatting with him at a lovely lunch to which the Rs treated me the day before my dinner. I wanted to follow up on a couple of things that were mentioned, so looked forward to seeing him.
After a little while, I realized that I had spoken with almost everyone but Will. In the meantime, the fellow who seemed to spend most of his time downstairs kept coming over and asking if I needed anything. I was very dismissive of him. He had not buttoned the lower button of his blazer and I made a note to tell someone. I also could not understand why he kept leaving his station to come up to see me. I scoffed to myself that he must have seen all of us screaming with laughter and wanted to be a part of the fun. Well, he was not going to horn in on our party. He came by again and I picked up my book.
In a few minutes, I asked--where is Will? Oh, I was told, there he is and he has stopped by, but you are always preoccupied (what a lovely way to say that I was ignoring him). Oh, Lord Jesus, how rude could I be? I was horrified, particularly since we had engaged in such a lovely way just the day before. I could only chalk it up to the angle at which I was looking at him.
At any rate, he did return and we had a most delightful chat during which we discussed the various reasons that folks like to go to EMP--some for the incredible food, some for the beautiful dining room, some to be cosseted, some (like me) for the overall experience of being a part of something wonderful. It was during this exchange that the next wonderful thing happened.
On my way to the restaurant, I realized that I had left my reading glasses at Veselka when I was having bortsch and veal paprika for lunch. I stopped to buy another pair, but I really missed my original ones. I asked RK, one of the managers, to alert Sandra, a treasure of a maitre d', if she could call the restaurant and see if they had them. If so, I could jump in a cab and go down to the East Village and pick them up. I thought that calling from EMP might lend the request more credence than my trying to negotiate with the Ukrainian hostess.
Of course, you know what I am going to tell you. The lovely Sandra comes over to the table with my reading glasses on a tray! I nearly wept. Will was entranced as well. Even now, three weeks later, I still shake my head with awe at the kindness that did not need to be extended, but that simply was.
So, with all that excitement AND the laughs AND the ribaldry AND the exchanging stories, I need to remember that I did have an excellent meal-one of my favorites--
Santa Barbara Sea Urchin--cappucino with Peekytoe crab and celery root: one of my favorite dishes, so subtle in its textures, but so powerful in its saltiness and taste of the ocean
Foie Gras--mille feuille with big eyed tuna and watercress: an interesting juxtaposition of flavors that you think isn't going to work, but comes across amazingly well, especially with the textures of the foie gras and the tuna
"Winter in Provence"--black truffles, chevres frais, and potatoes: For this dish, a cooking table was rolled over and I, of course, had to comment that I did not realize Benihana influenced EMP. After Chef Fabien had cooked this dish for me, I almost had to lie down on the banquette. The combination of the various flavors--strong, bitter, soft, sweet--incredible. Although the dish did resemble a child's finger painting within seconds of presentation. A most memorable taste sensation.
Scottish Langoustines--poached with cauliflower, almonds, and raisins: delightful, subtle, discreet
Everglades Frogs Legs--sauteed with parsley and porcini custard:lovely in its simplicity, this dish is a tiny bit on the salty side, but I adored it.
Four Story Hill Farm Veal--braised veal cheeks with celery roots and black truffles: How could you go wrong? My favorite flavors in a robust, yet not overpowering, portion.
Fromage: Twig Farm Soft Tomme, Petit Sapin, Abbaye de Tamie, Cave Aged Gruyere
"Soda Pop"--Tangerine,grapefruit,pomelo, and lemon: a truly original rendition of that old favorite, pop rocks. Is there a more interesting feeling than the juxtaposition of exploding candies in your mouth while seated in a four star restaurant? I had two of this dessert.
What a Christmas dinner!
I found this year to be an especially wonderful experience. I'm not exactly sure why. The folks in the restaurant are still over the moon about their four star rating from the New York Times, so the mood there is glorious. Chef Humm continues to challenge himself to create marvelous food. I felt fabulous, having enjoyed a successful work year and being in a good place, so to speak. On this particular evening, there were two experiences that made it a bit unique.
I have gotten to know most of the staff well, but had never had a chance to really talk with Will Guidara, the general manager, as he has been off on most of the nights that I visited the restaurant. I had heard great things about him from my dear friends, the Rs, and, indeed, had enjoyed chatting with him at a lovely lunch to which the Rs treated me the day before my dinner. I wanted to follow up on a couple of things that were mentioned, so looked forward to seeing him.
After a little while, I realized that I had spoken with almost everyone but Will. In the meantime, the fellow who seemed to spend most of his time downstairs kept coming over and asking if I needed anything. I was very dismissive of him. He had not buttoned the lower button of his blazer and I made a note to tell someone. I also could not understand why he kept leaving his station to come up to see me. I scoffed to myself that he must have seen all of us screaming with laughter and wanted to be a part of the fun. Well, he was not going to horn in on our party. He came by again and I picked up my book.
In a few minutes, I asked--where is Will? Oh, I was told, there he is and he has stopped by, but you are always preoccupied (what a lovely way to say that I was ignoring him). Oh, Lord Jesus, how rude could I be? I was horrified, particularly since we had engaged in such a lovely way just the day before. I could only chalk it up to the angle at which I was looking at him.
At any rate, he did return and we had a most delightful chat during which we discussed the various reasons that folks like to go to EMP--some for the incredible food, some for the beautiful dining room, some to be cosseted, some (like me) for the overall experience of being a part of something wonderful. It was during this exchange that the next wonderful thing happened.
On my way to the restaurant, I realized that I had left my reading glasses at Veselka when I was having bortsch and veal paprika for lunch. I stopped to buy another pair, but I really missed my original ones. I asked RK, one of the managers, to alert Sandra, a treasure of a maitre d', if she could call the restaurant and see if they had them. If so, I could jump in a cab and go down to the East Village and pick them up. I thought that calling from EMP might lend the request more credence than my trying to negotiate with the Ukrainian hostess.
Of course, you know what I am going to tell you. The lovely Sandra comes over to the table with my reading glasses on a tray! I nearly wept. Will was entranced as well. Even now, three weeks later, I still shake my head with awe at the kindness that did not need to be extended, but that simply was.
So, with all that excitement AND the laughs AND the ribaldry AND the exchanging stories, I need to remember that I did have an excellent meal-one of my favorites--
Santa Barbara Sea Urchin--cappucino with Peekytoe crab and celery root: one of my favorite dishes, so subtle in its textures, but so powerful in its saltiness and taste of the ocean
Foie Gras--mille feuille with big eyed tuna and watercress: an interesting juxtaposition of flavors that you think isn't going to work, but comes across amazingly well, especially with the textures of the foie gras and the tuna
"Winter in Provence"--black truffles, chevres frais, and potatoes: For this dish, a cooking table was rolled over and I, of course, had to comment that I did not realize Benihana influenced EMP. After Chef Fabien had cooked this dish for me, I almost had to lie down on the banquette. The combination of the various flavors--strong, bitter, soft, sweet--incredible. Although the dish did resemble a child's finger painting within seconds of presentation. A most memorable taste sensation.
Scottish Langoustines--poached with cauliflower, almonds, and raisins: delightful, subtle, discreet
Everglades Frogs Legs--sauteed with parsley and porcini custard:lovely in its simplicity, this dish is a tiny bit on the salty side, but I adored it.
Four Story Hill Farm Veal--braised veal cheeks with celery roots and black truffles: How could you go wrong? My favorite flavors in a robust, yet not overpowering, portion.
Fromage: Twig Farm Soft Tomme, Petit Sapin, Abbaye de Tamie, Cave Aged Gruyere
"Soda Pop"--Tangerine,grapefruit,pomelo, and lemon: a truly original rendition of that old favorite, pop rocks. Is there a more interesting feeling than the juxtaposition of exploding candies in your mouth while seated in a four star restaurant? I had two of this dessert.
What a Christmas dinner!
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Family of One Faces a Family Crisis
As you know, just hearing the word "family" sends me into something akin to orbit.
There is nothing like family. Family comes first. No one loves you like family. All phrases pretty much without meaning to me. As much I don't want to write that, it is true.
Until last week, when I saw, in action, that the family we create for ourselves is, indeed, the family of which platitudes are made.
At a sales conference in Dallas with my work family, I was tracked down by social workers and surgeons and nurses at High Point Regional Medical Center and told that Aunt Louise was in grave danger due to an infection that had gone untreated by her own physician.
Regular readers will recall that he is the one who was cursed out by the assisted living administrator who told him that he did not deserve to represent the Hippocratic oath for the horrible treatment he had given my 93 year old aunt.
His nonchalance is still wreaking havoc, two months later. With Aunt Louise semi-conscious, not able to swallow, and not coherent, the next of kin had to step in. Of course, Aunt Louise being Aunt Louise, she had refused to name a next of kin because she was afraid that it would hurt someone's feelings.
Christ, what a debacle. Between Mother's standard flair for the dramatique, my father's complete lack of attention because the doctor calling was from India and he professed not to understand him, and my getting bits and pieces of the story. . .well, it was just a bit stressful.
I was able to give the necessary authorization, but was told that we should be ready to move her to hospice.
Mother, of course, sees hospice as the multi-purpose solution, not realizing that it is, of course, a synonym for death's door. Mother kept telling the social worker, "Let's just put her in hospice and wait for her to get better". The social worker said to me, "do I have to continue dealing with Mother?" I would not have been surprised to hear Mother waxing rhetorically about the possibility of a kidnapping.
I had to decide whether or not to fly into the maelstrom that is my family in the greater High Point area.
At this point, I saw what it means to have "family". I walked back into a meeting room in which sat several of my nearest and dearest friends. Just seeing their faces as they assiduously worked on their spreadsheets brought joy to my heart. I would know what to do and they would be there for me. My beloved C talked me through several options. Dearest J and Darling J helped me focus and offered their wonderful perspective. New friend W offered practical and loving advice.
I made the decision to protect my mental health. I could manage Aunt Louise's care at a distance and probably do a better job from my own surroundings. I did not fly to High Point. At last report, Aunt Louise is holding her own. Yesterday she was doing "great"--eating ice cream and watching Carolina play Virginia Tech. Now, she is facing more surgery, but I am confident that she is receiving excellent care and I talk with her a couple of times a day. Whether her final days are next week or next month or next year, I am comfortable with how this is going.
Now, here is the part where I should write that it was wonderful to have that understanding of how a family can be a good thing. And, that is true. But, unfortunately, having seen that up close has only made me a bit sad for my life in Miami without anything close to family.
I can't tell you how many of you have told me your own stories of living in a place where you know so many lovely people, but your close friends are elsewhere. I know you will empathize and not think, "Lord Jesus, what else does this woman want? She has such a great life."
And, of course, I get to see my "family" often enough, maybe every two or three months. But, as I toy with goals for this new decade, I ask--maybe it would be a good thing to have one close friend nearby.
I am sure that by tomorrow, I will be back at 100%, delighting in my independence and, indeed, I have another post to share about my recent Christmas dinner. But, just for tonight, it feels good to let my guard down just a bit.
There is nothing like family. Family comes first. No one loves you like family. All phrases pretty much without meaning to me. As much I don't want to write that, it is true.
Until last week, when I saw, in action, that the family we create for ourselves is, indeed, the family of which platitudes are made.
At a sales conference in Dallas with my work family, I was tracked down by social workers and surgeons and nurses at High Point Regional Medical Center and told that Aunt Louise was in grave danger due to an infection that had gone untreated by her own physician.
Regular readers will recall that he is the one who was cursed out by the assisted living administrator who told him that he did not deserve to represent the Hippocratic oath for the horrible treatment he had given my 93 year old aunt.
His nonchalance is still wreaking havoc, two months later. With Aunt Louise semi-conscious, not able to swallow, and not coherent, the next of kin had to step in. Of course, Aunt Louise being Aunt Louise, she had refused to name a next of kin because she was afraid that it would hurt someone's feelings.
Christ, what a debacle. Between Mother's standard flair for the dramatique, my father's complete lack of attention because the doctor calling was from India and he professed not to understand him, and my getting bits and pieces of the story. . .well, it was just a bit stressful.
I was able to give the necessary authorization, but was told that we should be ready to move her to hospice.
Mother, of course, sees hospice as the multi-purpose solution, not realizing that it is, of course, a synonym for death's door. Mother kept telling the social worker, "Let's just put her in hospice and wait for her to get better". The social worker said to me, "do I have to continue dealing with Mother?" I would not have been surprised to hear Mother waxing rhetorically about the possibility of a kidnapping.
I had to decide whether or not to fly into the maelstrom that is my family in the greater High Point area.
At this point, I saw what it means to have "family". I walked back into a meeting room in which sat several of my nearest and dearest friends. Just seeing their faces as they assiduously worked on their spreadsheets brought joy to my heart. I would know what to do and they would be there for me. My beloved C talked me through several options. Dearest J and Darling J helped me focus and offered their wonderful perspective. New friend W offered practical and loving advice.
I made the decision to protect my mental health. I could manage Aunt Louise's care at a distance and probably do a better job from my own surroundings. I did not fly to High Point. At last report, Aunt Louise is holding her own. Yesterday she was doing "great"--eating ice cream and watching Carolina play Virginia Tech. Now, she is facing more surgery, but I am confident that she is receiving excellent care and I talk with her a couple of times a day. Whether her final days are next week or next month or next year, I am comfortable with how this is going.
Now, here is the part where I should write that it was wonderful to have that understanding of how a family can be a good thing. And, that is true. But, unfortunately, having seen that up close has only made me a bit sad for my life in Miami without anything close to family.
I can't tell you how many of you have told me your own stories of living in a place where you know so many lovely people, but your close friends are elsewhere. I know you will empathize and not think, "Lord Jesus, what else does this woman want? She has such a great life."
And, of course, I get to see my "family" often enough, maybe every two or three months. But, as I toy with goals for this new decade, I ask--maybe it would be a good thing to have one close friend nearby.
I am sure that by tomorrow, I will be back at 100%, delighting in my independence and, indeed, I have another post to share about my recent Christmas dinner. But, just for tonight, it feels good to let my guard down just a bit.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Family of One Celebrates 2009
I started out this decade in a relationship from which I had no idea how to extricate myself and living in a town that I tolerated. I loved my job, but had done it a long time. I could not fathom how I would ever get myself to a place where I was happy. One move to Miami later--well, we all know what happened. Even though I am convinced the best is still ahead of me, I as so grateful that I had the chance to spread my wings in this city that I adore and start another whole new life.
That is pretty much all I have to say about the decade that we just lived through. But, for 2009, there were a few remarkable milestones that I would be remiss in not sharing with you.
UNC WINS A NATIONAL CHAMPIONSHIP--Truly one of the sweetest victories in a championship game--to see Tyler and company vindicated after the humiliation that they suffered in 2008 was a lesson in perseverance, grace, and teamwork. The regular season was not that much fun to watch, but, oh, the tournament! Perfectly executed play after play coupled with almost blind determination made for a series of games that was a joy to watch. I so wanted my dear dad to see one more championship. He has now seen five championships for the Tar Heels! Which leads me to the next milestone--
DAD IS 90 and MOTHER/DAD CELEBRATE 60 YEARS TOGETHER--I marvel every day that I still have both of my parents and that they are in reasonably good shape. Certainly, Dad is doing well enough to get very upset last week when the Heels lost the Meineke bowl and he just had his Mercury Marquis inspected so that he can continue driving in the greater High Point area. The marriage of these two so completely different people has not only survived, but thrived, and their devotion to one another is so touching.
SOMETIMES IT IS MORE FUN TO SAY "SAYONARA" THAN "BONJOUR"--I am sure you understand how difficult it can be to cut off relationships that have outlasted their "sell by" date. I had a particular problem with this concept. What if this person changed? What if that person really needed me? What if I was misunderstanding what he was saying? In 2009, I finally learned how to say "goodbye" with firmness and very few sentences. What--well, not exactly fun--but something nearing delight. The fact that I have an Eternal Backup who has been in the picture for three years doesn't hurt. What is important is to remember the feeling from when we first connected and make sure that is the feeling for all connections moving forward.
22 DAYS in NEW YORK CITY-here is a place that claims my heart and mind with the power of the most ardent love affairs. The feeling that I have for this wonderful city almost surpasses the great loves of my life. Yes, I was lucky enough to live there for two years, but I think NYC might be a better romance than steady relationship for me. In addition to my holiday weekend jaunts, this year I cancelled a trip to the wine country of Oregon in order to take advantage of nine solid days in Manhattan and it was a wonderful decision. Gramercy Park on a summer afternoon, catching up with beloved friends who happen to be in NYC, seeing friends who live there, marvelous meals, seeing Angela Lansbury and God of Carnage from a third row seat,and watching a blizzard from the best table at Tabla, overlooking Madison Square Park--all of these and so much more made me very happy to get on that nonstop AA jet for LGA.
I DID NOT GET KIDNAPPED or ROBBED--Despite Mother's greatest fears, I was not kidnapped in 2009. Her new obsession is that I could be robbed. Just last week, when I was in High Point, I was carrying a jar of coins to the Harris Teeter to exchange for cash. She became very agitated and said that I was certain to be followed into the store and hit over the head once I had the cash in my hand. It never fails to amaze me that Mother has the scenario all in place. She demanded to go with me so that she could act as a lookout and fight the person who attempted the robbery. As I contemplate trips in the next couple of weeks to Paris and Dallas, I can only imagine the scenarios that will be presented. Oh, Mother!
Family of One wishes you a wonderful 2010 and a decade filled with unexpected delights. I'll be in touch!
That is pretty much all I have to say about the decade that we just lived through. But, for 2009, there were a few remarkable milestones that I would be remiss in not sharing with you.
UNC WINS A NATIONAL CHAMPIONSHIP--Truly one of the sweetest victories in a championship game--to see Tyler and company vindicated after the humiliation that they suffered in 2008 was a lesson in perseverance, grace, and teamwork. The regular season was not that much fun to watch, but, oh, the tournament! Perfectly executed play after play coupled with almost blind determination made for a series of games that was a joy to watch. I so wanted my dear dad to see one more championship. He has now seen five championships for the Tar Heels! Which leads me to the next milestone--
DAD IS 90 and MOTHER/DAD CELEBRATE 60 YEARS TOGETHER--I marvel every day that I still have both of my parents and that they are in reasonably good shape. Certainly, Dad is doing well enough to get very upset last week when the Heels lost the Meineke bowl and he just had his Mercury Marquis inspected so that he can continue driving in the greater High Point area. The marriage of these two so completely different people has not only survived, but thrived, and their devotion to one another is so touching.
SOMETIMES IT IS MORE FUN TO SAY "SAYONARA" THAN "BONJOUR"--I am sure you understand how difficult it can be to cut off relationships that have outlasted their "sell by" date. I had a particular problem with this concept. What if this person changed? What if that person really needed me? What if I was misunderstanding what he was saying? In 2009, I finally learned how to say "goodbye" with firmness and very few sentences. What--well, not exactly fun--but something nearing delight. The fact that I have an Eternal Backup who has been in the picture for three years doesn't hurt. What is important is to remember the feeling from when we first connected and make sure that is the feeling for all connections moving forward.
22 DAYS in NEW YORK CITY-here is a place that claims my heart and mind with the power of the most ardent love affairs. The feeling that I have for this wonderful city almost surpasses the great loves of my life. Yes, I was lucky enough to live there for two years, but I think NYC might be a better romance than steady relationship for me. In addition to my holiday weekend jaunts, this year I cancelled a trip to the wine country of Oregon in order to take advantage of nine solid days in Manhattan and it was a wonderful decision. Gramercy Park on a summer afternoon, catching up with beloved friends who happen to be in NYC, seeing friends who live there, marvelous meals, seeing Angela Lansbury and God of Carnage from a third row seat,and watching a blizzard from the best table at Tabla, overlooking Madison Square Park--all of these and so much more made me very happy to get on that nonstop AA jet for LGA.
I DID NOT GET KIDNAPPED or ROBBED--Despite Mother's greatest fears, I was not kidnapped in 2009. Her new obsession is that I could be robbed. Just last week, when I was in High Point, I was carrying a jar of coins to the Harris Teeter to exchange for cash. She became very agitated and said that I was certain to be followed into the store and hit over the head once I had the cash in my hand. It never fails to amaze me that Mother has the scenario all in place. She demanded to go with me so that she could act as a lookout and fight the person who attempted the robbery. As I contemplate trips in the next couple of weeks to Paris and Dallas, I can only imagine the scenarios that will be presented. Oh, Mother!
Family of One wishes you a wonderful 2010 and a decade filled with unexpected delights. I'll be in touch!
Friday, December 18, 2009
Family of One Celebrates Christmas
For the past few years, I have been journeying to NYC for my Christmas holiday. When I first started going in 2006, I had the entire few days completely to myself and I savored every second. I saw A Chorus Line, Ceremony of Carols at St. Thomas Church, Steve Tyrell at the Carlyle, Young Frankenstein (well, not every second could be fabulous!); I took a rickshaw down Fifth Avenue past all of the enchanting store windows; I ate wonderful food; I enjoyed fabulous hotel rooms. Every year, I go to the Met to see the stunningly beautiful tree and the incredibly touching manger scene spread beneath it and I spend some time at the Temple of Dendur.
But, a funny thing happened along the way.
I started making connections which turned into friendships and now I have a plethora of folks that I cannot wait to see--my dining family at Eleven Madison Park, my darling Frank at the Mandarin Oriental and my Cristina who recently had a baby, my nail technician Meme, my former colleague and adored reading/restaurant correspondent, Shani. Now, I have to make sure that I will have time to see the Georgis O'Keefe exhibit at the Whitney and see one of George Cukor's early films at the Film Forum.
I can think of no better place to be. And I can buy a Georgia O'Keefe book and look at the drawings that are in the exhibit.
For, this year, in addition to the aforementioned, I am having an assignation with a new friend whom I met through the folks at EMP. When I sent them the T-shirts earlier this year, they gave two to a couple who regularly goes there. The lady wrote to thank me and we struck up a correspondence that has become very dear. It can be such a wonderful thing to discover a new friend, don't you agree?
Mrs. R and I agreed that we should definitely have lunch at Eleven Madison Park which would also give me the opportunity to have my Christmas dinner there as a Family of One. We also agreed that we just had to get together prior to EMP, so we are meeting for a cocktail on Sunday night--her husband, Mrs. R, and me.
What a wonderful holiday!
It wasn't always this way. I spent five very sad years in the 00's, tending to my parents for a week. It was not a holly, jolly Christmas. But, I felt that it was the respectful thing to do.
Then, it hit me that I was only short-changing myself by not having a true Christmas celebration. Being a martyr can only take one so far. I made my decision that it was OK to have a Christmas and I never looked back. I go to NYC for a few days, fly directly to High Point, and never say a word. Remember, this is our secret!
I think it is one thing to celebrate Thanksgiving alone because it can turn into something dark with a twist of the stuffing pan, so I am happy to be on my own. But, Christmas is different. Religious connotations or not, there is something so necessary about being around people who bring us positive energy and to whom we bring the same.
That is why I am happy to be heading for NYC once again and seeing all of my various family members--dining, grooming, publishing, and one representing an opening door.
Now, I better get my doodlebugs down to first floor of the triplex and finish packing. I have a taxi coming at 4:45 AM!!
But, a funny thing happened along the way.
I started making connections which turned into friendships and now I have a plethora of folks that I cannot wait to see--my dining family at Eleven Madison Park, my darling Frank at the Mandarin Oriental and my Cristina who recently had a baby, my nail technician Meme, my former colleague and adored reading/restaurant correspondent, Shani. Now, I have to make sure that I will have time to see the Georgis O'Keefe exhibit at the Whitney and see one of George Cukor's early films at the Film Forum.
I can think of no better place to be. And I can buy a Georgia O'Keefe book and look at the drawings that are in the exhibit.
For, this year, in addition to the aforementioned, I am having an assignation with a new friend whom I met through the folks at EMP. When I sent them the T-shirts earlier this year, they gave two to a couple who regularly goes there. The lady wrote to thank me and we struck up a correspondence that has become very dear. It can be such a wonderful thing to discover a new friend, don't you agree?
Mrs. R and I agreed that we should definitely have lunch at Eleven Madison Park which would also give me the opportunity to have my Christmas dinner there as a Family of One. We also agreed that we just had to get together prior to EMP, so we are meeting for a cocktail on Sunday night--her husband, Mrs. R, and me.
What a wonderful holiday!
It wasn't always this way. I spent five very sad years in the 00's, tending to my parents for a week. It was not a holly, jolly Christmas. But, I felt that it was the respectful thing to do.
Then, it hit me that I was only short-changing myself by not having a true Christmas celebration. Being a martyr can only take one so far. I made my decision that it was OK to have a Christmas and I never looked back. I go to NYC for a few days, fly directly to High Point, and never say a word. Remember, this is our secret!
I think it is one thing to celebrate Thanksgiving alone because it can turn into something dark with a twist of the stuffing pan, so I am happy to be on my own. But, Christmas is different. Religious connotations or not, there is something so necessary about being around people who bring us positive energy and to whom we bring the same.
That is why I am happy to be heading for NYC once again and seeing all of my various family members--dining, grooming, publishing, and one representing an opening door.
Now, I better get my doodlebugs down to first floor of the triplex and finish packing. I have a taxi coming at 4:45 AM!!
Saturday, December 5, 2009
Family of One Ponders the Future
Before I continue with descriptions of four more fabulous meals in the greater Spain area, I wanted to bring you up to date about Aunt Louise and let you know a bit of what has been on my mind about the future.
You may recall that Aunt Louise's assisted living facility was saved from being sold out from under her when it was disclosed that the church managing the facility violated all sorts of regulations in offering the property to the local university. Residents were told that they had at least a year to find a place and that the assisted living folks would help them. So, we all breathed a sigh of relief. Aunt Louise could remain in her apartment, as she so dearly desired, for another year.
I had encouraged her to move up an early December appointment with her doctor so that he could be aware of her living situation. On Monday, November 2, she went to the doctor. When I spoke with her that evening, she was unusually exhausted and could barely speak. She said that the doctor thought she was doing well.
The next day, Mother called me to report that Aunt Louise was being rushed to a nursing home to live. I could hardly process it. What had happened in less than 24 hours? It turned out that Aunt Louise had been keeping a lot of secrets about her health and was relying more and more on the other old ladies to take care of her. One of them became very worried and went to the assisted living administrator who asked Aunt Louise about her condition and she confessed all. She could not move her leg, she had terrible bed sores, her ankles were swollen double their size--these are only a sample.
The assisted living lady called Aunt Louise's doctor and cussed him out and told him he was an insult to the Hippocratic oath. He weakly said that he thought she was doing OK for 93. This lady leapt into action and found Aunt Louise a place in a very lovely nursing home and also paid for a nurse's aide to stay with her since she could not be left alone.
I was intrigued by the timing of this as I was leaving on my trip. Should I cancel it and go to High Point to be with Aunt Louise for this traumatic move? The move that she had said that she never wanted to make? Or, should I let the process unfold as it seemed to be doing so as to spare as much emotion and drama as possible?
I spoke with Aunt Louise and asked her what she would like me to do and she said emphatically that I was to go on my trip and she wanted to focus on getting herself to the nursing home. So, a friend took her away from her apartment of twenty years and left all of the sorting out to the incredible assisted living administrator with some help from Mother.
She is now receiving excellent care. She was listed in critical condition for a couple of weeks, but she is now able to take meals with others and has been moved to a room with a roommate. This, of course, was her worst nightmare, but she is handling it pretty well.
Back on Monday, November, 2, I asked myself what I would like to happen. My fondest wish had been for Aunt Louise to pass quietly away in the apartment that she loved, surrounded by her things. But, I also realized that she needed care quickly or she was going to meet a very grisly and unhappy end. I asked that she be cared for if that would be the best way to insure a comfortable end of her life and that wish was granted.
Of course, I tortured myself that I should have been more forceful in making sure that she was taken care of, but this is a woman who wouldn't even sign a power of attorney, so I had to accept the fact that I had done the best that I could.
And, then, of course, I pondered my own future. What was the lesson that I could learn from this cautionary tale and share with you as well? Leaving out the fact that I will have no living relatives that I even know if I live that long and that my closest circle of friends could be living in that great Bookstore in the Sky, I realized that I would need a plan. But, not right this year or even next year.
But, I have decided that when I am 75, I will make sure that I have a plan A and a plan B in place to make sure that I have the care that I might need. I think that is realistic. Any earlier seems a bit premature. Although I think it is incredibly important to continue going to the Biltmore gym and save a bit of money.
Most importantly, this is the lesson that I have learned. Aunt Louise feared two things more than anything--being a burden and leaving her apartment for a nursing home. She was always talking to me about how important it is to be close to one's family--even though I don't really know any of mine--because they will always be there for you. While she was pontificating about this, she was becoming more and more reliant on the old ladies around her who simply couldn't take it any more and are, of course, also trying to avoid going to the nursing home. She completely lost her perspective on being a functioning member of a family and what that means. It seemed inconsequential to her that she was causing so much stress and anxiety to those around her. The family that really cared about her was on the brink and, in the end, there was really only one solution which could give us some relief.
So, moving forward, I am going to try to always remember that in growing old, there are responsibilities not only in taking care of oneself, but in not taking too much advantage of the kindness of others. Family of One or Family of Twenty, we owe that to ourselves and those around us.
Where is Mother in all this? Well, she went to Aunt Louise's apartment and took the family heirloom water set for me as well as the manger scene that Aunt Louise made in ceramics class. An antique sewing machine from the 1880s only warranted scorn--"who in the world would want that old thing?" But, touchingly, she was very moved by Aunt Louise's china baby doll whose head I had inadvertently busted open as a child and for which Aunt Louise had carefully crocheted a cap to cover the hole in its head. The china doll is now living at Mother's.
You may recall that Aunt Louise's assisted living facility was saved from being sold out from under her when it was disclosed that the church managing the facility violated all sorts of regulations in offering the property to the local university. Residents were told that they had at least a year to find a place and that the assisted living folks would help them. So, we all breathed a sigh of relief. Aunt Louise could remain in her apartment, as she so dearly desired, for another year.
I had encouraged her to move up an early December appointment with her doctor so that he could be aware of her living situation. On Monday, November 2, she went to the doctor. When I spoke with her that evening, she was unusually exhausted and could barely speak. She said that the doctor thought she was doing well.
The next day, Mother called me to report that Aunt Louise was being rushed to a nursing home to live. I could hardly process it. What had happened in less than 24 hours? It turned out that Aunt Louise had been keeping a lot of secrets about her health and was relying more and more on the other old ladies to take care of her. One of them became very worried and went to the assisted living administrator who asked Aunt Louise about her condition and she confessed all. She could not move her leg, she had terrible bed sores, her ankles were swollen double their size--these are only a sample.
The assisted living lady called Aunt Louise's doctor and cussed him out and told him he was an insult to the Hippocratic oath. He weakly said that he thought she was doing OK for 93. This lady leapt into action and found Aunt Louise a place in a very lovely nursing home and also paid for a nurse's aide to stay with her since she could not be left alone.
I was intrigued by the timing of this as I was leaving on my trip. Should I cancel it and go to High Point to be with Aunt Louise for this traumatic move? The move that she had said that she never wanted to make? Or, should I let the process unfold as it seemed to be doing so as to spare as much emotion and drama as possible?
I spoke with Aunt Louise and asked her what she would like me to do and she said emphatically that I was to go on my trip and she wanted to focus on getting herself to the nursing home. So, a friend took her away from her apartment of twenty years and left all of the sorting out to the incredible assisted living administrator with some help from Mother.
She is now receiving excellent care. She was listed in critical condition for a couple of weeks, but she is now able to take meals with others and has been moved to a room with a roommate. This, of course, was her worst nightmare, but she is handling it pretty well.
Back on Monday, November, 2, I asked myself what I would like to happen. My fondest wish had been for Aunt Louise to pass quietly away in the apartment that she loved, surrounded by her things. But, I also realized that she needed care quickly or she was going to meet a very grisly and unhappy end. I asked that she be cared for if that would be the best way to insure a comfortable end of her life and that wish was granted.
Of course, I tortured myself that I should have been more forceful in making sure that she was taken care of, but this is a woman who wouldn't even sign a power of attorney, so I had to accept the fact that I had done the best that I could.
And, then, of course, I pondered my own future. What was the lesson that I could learn from this cautionary tale and share with you as well? Leaving out the fact that I will have no living relatives that I even know if I live that long and that my closest circle of friends could be living in that great Bookstore in the Sky, I realized that I would need a plan. But, not right this year or even next year.
But, I have decided that when I am 75, I will make sure that I have a plan A and a plan B in place to make sure that I have the care that I might need. I think that is realistic. Any earlier seems a bit premature. Although I think it is incredibly important to continue going to the Biltmore gym and save a bit of money.
Most importantly, this is the lesson that I have learned. Aunt Louise feared two things more than anything--being a burden and leaving her apartment for a nursing home. She was always talking to me about how important it is to be close to one's family--even though I don't really know any of mine--because they will always be there for you. While she was pontificating about this, she was becoming more and more reliant on the old ladies around her who simply couldn't take it any more and are, of course, also trying to avoid going to the nursing home. She completely lost her perspective on being a functioning member of a family and what that means. It seemed inconsequential to her that she was causing so much stress and anxiety to those around her. The family that really cared about her was on the brink and, in the end, there was really only one solution which could give us some relief.
So, moving forward, I am going to try to always remember that in growing old, there are responsibilities not only in taking care of oneself, but in not taking too much advantage of the kindness of others. Family of One or Family of Twenty, we owe that to ourselves and those around us.
Where is Mother in all this? Well, she went to Aunt Louise's apartment and took the family heirloom water set for me as well as the manger scene that Aunt Louise made in ceramics class. An antique sewing machine from the 1880s only warranted scorn--"who in the world would want that old thing?" But, touchingly, she was very moved by Aunt Louise's china baby doll whose head I had inadvertently busted open as a child and for which Aunt Louise had carefully crocheted a cap to cover the hole in its head. The china doll is now living at Mother's.
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