Reading (or not) as of late

I couldn't do it.  I just. couldn't. finish. this. book.

And I chose it for our book club meeting!  For shame.

Heller's stream of consciousness, war-time, trite attempts at being clever were just too disorganized and sporadic and I couldn't take more than 200 pages without feeling like I was punishing myself.

So, friends, if you enjoyed this read, snaps to you!  Because I thought it sucked and can't believe it's been heralded as a best seller of our time!

New York state of mind?

Tom Wolfe's describes some interesting northeastern religious tension...which is almost exactly the opposite of the southern experience (Catholic, Protestant and Jewish balances):

The Mayor shook his head some more.  He found the Christian churches baffling.  When he was growing up, the goyim were all Catholics, unless you counted the shvartzer, which nobody did.  They didn't even rate being called goyim.  The Catholics were two types, the Irish and the Italians.  The Irish were stupid and liked to fight and inflict pain.  The Italians were stupid and slob-like.  Both were unpleasant, but the lineup was easy enough to comprehend.  He was in college before he realized there was this whole other set of goyim, the Protestants.  He never saw any.  There were only Jews, Irishmen, and Italians in college, but he heard about them, and he learned that some of the most famous people in New York were this type of goyim, the Protestants, people like the Rockefellers, the Vanderbilts, the Roosevelts, the Astors, the Morgans.  The term Wasp was invented much later.  The Protestants were split up into such a crazy bunch of sects nobody could even keep track of them all.  It was all very pagan and spooky, when it wasn't ridiculous.  They were all worshipping some obscure Jew from halfway around the world.  The Rockefellers were!  The Roosevelts even!  Very spooky it was, and yet these Protestants ran the biggest law firms, the banks, the investment houses, the big corporations.  He never saw such people in the flesh, except at ceremonies.  Otherwise they didn't exist in New York.  They barely even showed up in the voting surveys.  In sheer numbers they were a nullity - and yet there they were.  And now one of these sects, the Episcopalians, had a black bishop.  You could joke about the Wasps, and he often did so with his friends, and yet they weren't so much funny as creepy.

Post-labor day blues? Probably not.

Happy fall y'all!  I must admit that I preempted the season by giving myself a mani last night with Lancome's lovely dark purple shade from fall 2009.  One of my favorite things about fall (aside from college football of course) is dark nail polish- such a UK classic touch and it always reminds me of my lovely Scottish friend Lucy who introduced me to edgy manis- and I'm really excited to have just nailed down a weekend to visit her in Manhattan.  First weekend in December, I'm big apple-bound to see the only woman I know who can drink more champagne than I can.  I'll drink to that!

Speaking of Lucy and running, here we are at last year's New York Marathon cheering on her sweet husband Stewart and friends (homemade signs and all)- such a fun day and I would love to run this race myself next year!

More great news:  Biscuit and I both finished our half mary in under two hours!  I would post pics of us at the finish but I'd just been at elevated (try 10 out of 10), complete physical exertion for nearly two hours and let's just say I look the part.  Biscuit smoked me by 3 minutes, which is typical for her speedy little self.  While thrilled with my personal record ("PR" in runner lingo), the run was not my best and the entire two hours were a true struggle.  I'm afraid despite its dormant years, I haven't fully outgrown my exercise-induced asthma (was diagnosed in high school but haven't had problems since mid-college) and I'm making an appointment with a doc to get back on the inhaler train.  From mile 1 my chest was so tight I could barely breath- not the greatest conditions for 13.1 miles in the summer heat.  Makes me even more proud of the accomplishment because it was such a struggle.  Onto this weekend's race:  Parks Half Marathon in Bethesda, MD.  I'm allowed to shoot the breeze this time, given my goal was met in Daytona...err...Virginia Beach.

Hope y'all had a lovely Labor Day and are enjoying your four day work week! x

New season, new style.

Happy Wednesday, lovelies.  At 6pm tomorrow, I officially start a 4-day weekend, which will be a much-needed sanctuary from all of the secretarial shiz my boss has been tasking me with lately.  Thank God I have my own intellectual and professional curiosity; otherwise my brain would rust over and I'd have dropped three reading levels by now.

But on to lighter topics, such as my utter and complete lack of style.  I have been wearing the same crap since high school- literally.  I've never been a serious shopper, and my sister somehow managed to usurp all of the trendy genes from the pool.  I need to ditch my gap jeans and polos and get some fall basics that will give me a little more of an edge and, most importantly, won't make me look older than I already am for pete's sake.

First stop:  haircut.  I'm getting bangs at 3pm on Friday.  As much as I'd like to emulate Charlotte York, the reality is that having my locks one length results in me looking like Ozzy Osbourne by the end of the evening (not to mention with my recent eating issues, I am more likely than ever to rip the head off a live bird with my teeth).  So here's what I'm thinking...

No doubt Jennifer's first reaction will be to laugh her face off when I hand her a picture of Mischa Barton and say "make me look like this."  But hopefully she can take me to a place where I accomplish two things:  (1) I no longer look like the Prince of Darkness; and (2) I have a style that would encourage me to wear my hair down more often and more naturally (as in not board straight after 45+ minutes of styling).

Second attempt at stepping up my game:  I finally gave in and bought leggings.  Like a really nice pair.  I know you may be wondering how (and perhaps why) I could fit my ass into a pair of equestrian-style leggings.  I'm wondering the same thing, as I ordered them online today and don't yet have the answer to those questions.  But I love the look, paired with a great sweater and some boots and given the fact that I refuse to wear anything but boots when the temperature drops below 50 degrees, I may as well let them enjoy the chill out from under my jeans- better them than me.

Remaining pieces on my list:  cowgirl boots, shortie suede boots, a pair of designer skinny jeans and an obnoxiously busy-looking oversized clutch.  I figure with all of these items, I'll look 5 years younger, 10 pounds lighter, and Mischa Barton will be taking pictures of me to her stylist.

xo

When the going gets rough...

Rent a stretch limo in the Hamptons?  I'm not sure when my definition of weekend fun transitioned from riding a station wagon down A1A to riding a stretch limousine through the Hamptons, but I could get used to this.  'Twas the lovely Ilene's bachelorette weekend bash and the sweet Dana and myself had booked ourselves train tickets (including a picnic for two I prepared) to join her harem of NY ladies to celebrate her pending nuptials.  Sadly Dana couldn't join at the very last minute due to some health issues (RIP Dana's gallbladder), so I spent the train ride with the dapper Tom Wolfe and ate every last bite of the picnic myself (I know, shocker, right?).  Warning:  do NOT ride an Amtrak train through NYC while reading Bonfire of the Vanities if you find yourself missing New York.  Really ached with some divine memories of Manhattan and how much I enjoyed my weekends there in the days of yore.  Already looking forward to my return trip via the Brooklyn wedding bash in October!

ANYWHO.  I arrived late Friday night at Ilene's parents' gorgeous home in Amagansett, to what ended as a Miley Cirus dance party with a rabid pack of pumas.  These women are nuts y'all.  Our fun climaxed on Saturday morning with a private wine tour through some upstate NY wineries- both of which were full of tasty summer bubblies.

Our limo (waiting right behind daddy's little beach toy)

And all of the lovelies at our first stop of the day:

After a warm day of sipping and swirling, we returned home to some pool time, where I proceeded to fall asleep face-down on the pool deck (wearing a bikini and boat shoes) for over an hour.  I woke up with a pool deck imprinted on my entire body and I'll spare the pics of my lethargic, clueless self wandering the grounds looking like I'd just suffered a public caning.

All-in-all a delightful weekend with intelligent and outrageous ladies, just the way I like 'em.  I was sad to return to reality but certainly hope to take up the Stein family on any Hamptons offers in the future.  

Hope you all had an equally joyous summer weekend- Lord knows they're slipping away!  xo 

Politics as usual

During an invigorating 10-mile run with Biscuit before work this morning, we noticed that as the sun came up on the mall, so did tons of scaffolding and infrastructure a la July 4th concert series.  What in the heck is going on, we thought?  Well come to find out, it's 'ol Glenn Beck and his "Restoring Honor" rally this Saturday.  My first thought was thank GOD I'll be out of town for this round of morons.  And my second thought was WOW- if I were a black person, I would be so flippin' pissed that this bigot and his pea-brained tea-pary-ers have the nerve to stage their amateur hour at the site of MLK's "I Have a Dream" speech!  I mean, all Americans have the right to be miffed, but particularly those who really and truly view that moment as their final gateway to political and social empowerment.  My heavens! 

This inflamed venue choice certainly brings back memories of a certain speech from a certain former President...

Gawd.  Thank goodness for the Washington Post's Eugene Robinson (who was with my main mang on Morning Joe today!) and other voices of reason thoughtfully responding on this mayhem.  Robinson says it best, as he writes "the majestic grounds of the Lincoln Memorial belong to all Americans -- even to egomaniacal talk-show hosts who profit handsomely from stoking fear, resentment and anger. So let me state clearly that Glenn Beck has every right to hold his absurdly titled 'Restoring Honor' rally on Saturday.  But the rest of us have every right to call the event what it is: an exercise in self-aggrandizement on a Napoleonic scale."

At least the Evangelical Christian right is beginning to question Beck and his idiotic shenanigans.

And let me be clear, dear friends, that I would be just as snarky about a similar effort from any of Beck's liberal counterparts, particularly the pesky Keith Olbermann.  That's why I suggest we all watch Joe and Mika in the mornings because they are objective, moderate and balanced and also I have a huge crush on Joe.

Now off to the Hapmtons for a fabulous weekend of less politics and more wine!  xo

Running and eating and running and EATING.

Well, well well.  If it isn't a touching work of art that perfectly represents the love triangle ruling my daily life:  me, running, and FOOD.

We are all jealous lovers yet complete enablers.  Granted, yesterday I did run eight miles before work at an average pace of 8:45 (scootin' for this old bird), BUT I also literally blanked out in a work-related conversation because I was fixated on day-old chocolate donuts behind the coffee counter, and I'm pretty sure the man who empties my office trash (Carl) was alarmed the copious amounts of snack food wrappers.  None of which is for lack of regular meals, as I ate my body weight in greek yogurt and two packets of oatmeal for breakfast, along with two servings of apple jacks (with milk), soy chips, various fruits, steamed veggies and a few handfuls of basmati rice for lunch.  Because that makes a delicious, balanced meal.  Just like I'm convinced I experience intervals of menopause-like symptoms on my summer walks to work (helloooo hot flashes), I'm now certain that marathon training offers insight into third trimester pregnancy (eating, and in my case also drinking, for two).  And most of it is really healthy stuff, but the point is:  I. Cannot. Fit. Enough. Food. In. My. Mouth.