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WE did! My friends and I, that is. Last night, at a little spot called the Blind Pig here in Manhattan, my buddies and I hosted an event designed to raise a little money for the children of Renaissance Village, a FEMA constructed trailer park down outside of Baton Rouge, Louisiana. I met a few of the kids who are living there (all victims of Hurricane Katrina) when I was down in the region this past summer, and never could get them out of my mind. Neither could Jess, and so, together with our friends Kerryann, Katie, Vanessa and Allison, we got together and made the decision to do something that might make these kids' lives a tiny bit better.
The plan was pretty simple, and it totally worked: convince our friends--all of whom get together all the time in bars and restaurants to have a little fun--to spend this past Tuesday evening partying w a purpose instead. And that's even what we called it: Party with Purpose. We got other friends to donate items to for silent auction, booked the bar (again through friends) and then sent out Evites and email invitations to our buddies in New York. And guess what? People turned up in droves and helped us raise about $5,500-- which we will now use to buy holiday gifts for the kids in the trailer park.
It's actually amazing to me how easy it was to put together, to get people to come out, and actually make a demonstrable (if small) difference in the lives of others. Working for a non-profit that is large-ish in size and therefore a complex system of yeses and nos, you can sometimes forget just how easy it can be to do something that has immediate impact. I'm so glad that I was reminded that it's something we all can do--maybe not alone, but with just a few friends by your side, change is possible. And, if you're lucky, really, really fun.
So I had this idea last night, as I was trying to drift myself off to sleep, that I should start trying to post in the morning, well before the day has jerked off into the annoyingly usual busy-ness that has come to be the norm more recently. So here I am, dressed, loafers polished, and sitting down for just a moment to jot a few things down before I jump on the train and head for work.Last weekend was spent in New Orleans--my first trip to the city since the storms. It's true that I visited Baton Rouge in August, but being in the Big Easy itself, I found, is a different thing altogether... Not that you'd know so much disaster was around you if you didn't inquire: the business district and the French Quarter have been pulled back together in large part and live there, on the surface, seems much the same as it ever has been. But for some reason (perhaps because the work I do from 9-5 is so closely linked to what's happening down there) I couldn't stop asking questions of the people I met who live there--and once you ask, there's no going back to the fantasy that all might be well. Because once you ask, they begin to talk, and the stories they tell are not uplifting. They are sad and long and utterly depressing and they make you realize that whatever you may be being fed about the "recovery"of the region, people's lives are still being impacted by the trauma this storm wrought.It was completely surprising to me, how affected I was by the underlying tension, sadness, and frankly, the smelliness of the town (how had I never noticed before reek of rotting garbage, sewage around every corner downtown?). I'm still struggling a little bit with my discontent, and I'm interested to see how and if my experience of the place will change when we return down there in December after we deliver our gifts to the children of Renaissance Village (more on that later).
In the meanwhile, though, I should also say that the reason I went down there--the wedding of my friends Trina and Chris--was a smash success, and a beautiful reason to be drawn to the city. So nice to see something new and fresh and good spring up in the midst of so much decay.
My friend Lulu here at work turned my eye today to this little quiz on a site called BellaSugar, which is one of her faves. The quiz is about 20th Century foxes, and is a fun little test of your pop culture knowledge of the winningest ladies of times gone by.
Now, since I'd never been to or heard of BellaSugar before, I decided to poke around a little and see what else they talk about over there besides Gloria Steinem's streaks. Turns out that, in a brilliant catch, they picked up this little number from BoingBoing on a spa treatment that involves having tiny fish nibble away your dead flesh.
Gag.
Apologies for the absence, but chalk it up to the 4th of July holiday in combination with the fact that Jessica and I just moved our home: from mid-town east to the upper east side. And it's been no easy transition: had to move our stuff out of our old place on June 29, but couldn't move our bodies into the new place until July 7, which meant a week of living in the homes of our wonderful and various friends (thanks Katie and Liz and Ingrid!). All this followed by a weekend of mad, mad cleaning, scouring, washing, drying, and generally trying to get ourselves acclimated to the new space. Whew.
All this setting up house makes me wonder: when'd I get so old? Time was, I would have been happy to live out of boxes, and without sparklingly clean floors, and never given it a second thought. But there I was, scrubbing my new kitchen cabinet until it gleamed. Gleamed, I tell you!
Not sure exactly where the shift happened, but somehow, oddly enough, I became an adult. Which freaks me out a little to realize. And so to quell my quaking fear, I look for remembrances of things past... things that take me back to the days of Lollapalooza and beer thirty; back to "We Got the Bunk" at Spring Fling and late nights at the Tropicana. Things like the Beastie Boys. Today, Mike D. waxes environmentally friendly over at Grist, and even though he's a grown-up now too, the whole thing brought me back.
Thanks for the lift, Boys. Now me and the crew are gonna drink some brass monkey.
My friend Katie is not a real pirate, but she did sail around the world, which we think gives her a bit of credibility (and a really good opener at bars). In any case, I had some questions about pirates that Katie never seemed to be able to answer for me--but thankfully, Slate has come through and set the record straight, answering once and for all a question that has kept many of us up and wondering way into the wee hours: Did pirates really ever say, "Arrrgh"??
(The answer is no. And nobody ever walked the plank either. What a freakin' bummer.)
If you ever needed any insight into how much of a dork I actually am, note that this article on the favorite fonts of authors and the accompanying slide-show on the rise of Helvetica rank for me as two of the dopest pieces of journalism I've seen in a while. I can't deny it--I am a total font geek.
And for anyone who's wondering, I tend to write in Times New Roman--though I do really understand the insatiable pull towards Courier and its typewriterly quintessence.
Call it the luck of the (black) Irish: I've been sent to Miami for three days to observe a convening of the Foundation's Reproductive Rights grantees--and so far so good. Today was mostly travel, check-in, and settling in to our surroundings. Tomorrow, though, the hard work begins. Which is why I spent my evening "enjoying my own company," as I said to Jess (who is currently on a company boondoggle in Cancun... ah, the for-profit world).
Anyway, this enjoyment of my own self took the form tonight of taking up residence in a bar along Lincoln Road called Finnegan's 2, where I nursed an Amstel Light for about an hour and half while reading "Eat, Pray, Love" by Elizabeth Gilbert (loving every minute of it; definitely pick it up). Then I wandered down to the far end of Lincoln, popping into stores; then turned and headed back up towards Collins, where my hotel is, stopping first to have the sushi I had been craving all day. The concierge recommended a place called Sushi Siam, and though I'm usually wary of sushi places that try to mix with another cuisine (here, Thai), I figured I'd give it a shot. It was... fine--though the seaweed tasted a bit too "seaweedy" for my taste. The lesson? Never second-guess your own instincts.
Still, it's been a great few hours. I'm taking a breather back in the room for a bit to watch what I believe is the season finale of "Heroes" (can't wait!) and then either going to venture down toward Ocean Avenue and see what's happening there in the way of dessert. Or I'll just hop next door and check out the quality of their gelato. Not bad, friends. Not bad at all.
To all those who are regular readers of this blog and therefore noticed that though I usually post every single workday, last week I posted only twice, I offer my profoundest apologies... This back thing really knocked me for a loop. Had to have x-rays last Thursday to rule out any herniated discs and the like (which were indeed ruled out) and then got put on a bit of bed rest and Flexeril--which, you will know if you've ever been on it, makes you more than a little groggy. I like to say that Thursday night was spent more or less in a drug induced coma, but by Friday, I'd figured out how to time my doses so that I could actually get some work done--albeit from my couch--during the day.
Today I'm finally back somewhat on track, and though my back is still aching and I'm kicked back in my chair like some17th century Pasha, its possible to get a few more things accomplished... like blogging. So here I am, again, and for the duration, I hope.
In any case, my job is not to natter on about ME, but to direct you to the news that's fit to kick around. So, to that end...
Bill Officially Stumping for Hill: Any time I get a message in my inbox from Bill Clinton that says, "Watch This" I promise you one thing: I'm opening it (since you never know what he could have in mind). Though not as titillating as some of the best outtakes from his years in office, this video of him stumping for Hillary really is effective--though whether that's because I learned things about Hillary I never knew before, or because I just got sucked in by that amazing Bill Clinton charm, I cannot say. Regardless, worth a watch.
J.K. Rowling to the Rescue: Seems that the Harry Potter author cum billionairess has offered to add a few pennies to the fund being amassed as a reward for the return of Madeleine McCann--the 4 year old who was left alone by her parents while they went out to dinner and then disappeared. Sources are calling Rowling's pledge "staggering"--so if you didn't think returning an abducted child to her parents was a valuable act in and of itself, now you have further inducement to be a decent human being.
Lefties Battle over Georgia Rule: I'm going to stay mostly out of this one since both are parties known to me, but just for your knowledge, there's an interesting debate going on between Jennifer Pozner, Don Hazen, and the readers of both their sites over a posting last week on Alternet about the film "Georgia Rule." Take it all in and judge for yourself.
Last night was the world premiere of the Jane Fonda/LindsayLohan/Felicity Huffman flick Georgia Rule here in NYC, and the event was staged, happily enough, as a benefit for the Women's Media Center. As such, I not only got to attend, but earned myself an All Access pass by offering to work for a bit before the show actually started. It turned out to be one of those great red carpet events that you see on Access Hollywood every night, made much better by the fact that with my pass I could go pretty much anywhere I wanted, even onto the red carpet itself.
The movie was, by all accounts, much better than expected (quite good actually. I can't believe I'm saying this, but people really need to start giving Lohan a bit more credit--despite all the shenanigans, she's a pretty talented little actress). But the best part of the night came at the afterparty, at The China Club. Someone had the brilliant idea to play the song "Do the Jane Fonda" by Mickey Avalon in the VIP lounge, and within seconds, Jane and La Lindsay were in the middle of the dance floor, breaking it down white-girl style. Freakin' amazing.
My friend Don Hazen writes more about the event on the Alternet blog-- but seriously, it was one of the best things I've seen in ages. Two new hips, a white satin pantsuit and 69 years of experience was all Jane needed to get that party started. Superb!
... Something else comes along to surprise you--at least if you're as lucky as I am and have a partner who is just amazing. So this past Friday night, Jess cues me up to have dinner out, ostensibly with her brother and sister-in-law. I amble along happily, and find myself sitting at the bar at Schiller's, sipping a Pimm's Cup and waiting for the in-laws to appear. Round about 8:05, Jess grabs me and says "Eric and Duff couldn't make it, so I had to bring in a stand-in couple." She says this with a look on her face that makes me think that there's no way in hell I'm going to be happy to see who this stand-in couple might be, so I start hissing in her ear about how I'm going to kill her and wondering why in the world she'd keep this kind of secret from me...
...and then I turn around to see none other than my friends Cameron and Jenn standing behind me with open arms. It was amazing! And surprising! And truly wonderful to get to sit down with them for a meal to catch up, and to know that Jessica had totally, completely gone out of her way to give me a fabulous birthday treat. Jenn and Cameron and I have known each other since high school (which is a frighteningly long time now!), and though they live in Boston, which doesn't seem so far away, I don't get to see them nearly as much as I'd like. So getting to spend some good QT with them was heavenly. I was smiling from ear to ear.
At dinner, Jessica explained that they had tried to get our other good friends, Lis and Laura and Ford down to the city for the celebration as well, but that Laura was busy with tax season and that Lis had been stymied by both bad weather coming out of VT and an inability to find a babysitter for her son Izak. In both cases, I totally understood and didn't give it a second thought--since I hadn't been expecting anything at all I hadn't had my hopes up about seeing folks. So I went to sleep that night totally stoked to spend the next day just hanging out with Jenn and Cameron, running around the city.
When we woke up on Saturday morning, Jess and I went on our newly ritualized 2 mile walk up 1st Avenue, then came back and got ready to meet J & C for brunch. We walked over to 51st and Lex, where we were scheduled to meet up, and waited and waited... and then finally, I saw them coming towards me, walking east on 51st Street. And then one of them grabs me (I was so stunned I can't even remember who it was) and says "Sorry we're late, but it just keeps getting better." And they step apart and there behind them are Laura and Ford... and again, I was totally, 100% shocked and amazed and surprised and elated. And I hugged them all because I was so happy to see them and so moved by their caring, and hugged Jess super tight, too, because she was the one who brought it all together. I am one lucky woman.
So suffice it to say, I had a glorious weekend, surrounded by some of my favorite people in the world. (Alas, Lis really couldn't make it, for the reasons outlined above, but we tried to party on in her honor.) The six of us did brunch and Bloody Marys at Danal, then wound our way over to Soho, where Jess and I did some shopping for an upcoming baby shower, Laura and Ford tested chairs at Room & Board, and Jenn got some dope new kicks. Then we all had beers, napped, and met up again for dinner that night at Sala, where we were joined by our little buddy Katie Sherwin and Laura's friend Susan.
Good times, man. Real good times. :-)
So Imus lost his job--well, the one on MSNBC anyway. It's a good start, and the best part is that it allows me to get back to the things that matter, issues of import like... the fact that this guy I went to high school with is now apparently dating Katie Couric. That's right: Couric, 50, is dating a dude who is 33--and personally, I don't give a darn about the age difference. It's just totally bizarre to hear through the grapevine, and then read in the Post, that someone you shared a dining hall with for 3 years is on the prowl with the anchor of the CBS Evening News. I suppose she's a catch--though I have rather a soft spot in my heart for Meredith Vieira when it comes right down to it.
Oddly, neither my friends nor I can remember for our lives what this guy actually looks like--leading me to believe that Katie isn't just chasing a pretty face. Go get 'em, anchor lady!
Or maybe two, is more apt. Craziness over here at the workplace, but even in the midst of the chaos good things happen: yesterday, went with my boss to a panel sponsored by Demos, where the focus was on policies that affect LGBT families. In particular, really interesting research presented on how anti-gay policies disproportionately affect LGBT communities of color; all available in Sean Cahill and Sarah Tobias' new book on the topic, available from Amazon. (The packaging is a bit academic, but don't let that scare you.)
And then, today, had lunch with a friend of a friend who happens to work in the same building as I do but whom I have never, until today, seen in this actual building. We went around the corner to this underground Japanese place that has a great lunch special ($9 for miso soup, shumai, and two rolls) and just chatted about the ins and outs of being 30+ year old lesbians, in relationships, and preparing to walk down the path of conception. She and her partner are farther down that path than Jess and I are, for sure, but I found it so reassuring to talk to someone very much in the process of figuring out "how it all works", more or less at the same time as we are. Plus, she bought me Starbucks afterwards... truly the way to my heart.
Call me trivial, but has anybody else noticed that Harriet Miers got a new, spiffy hairdo? I guess getting raked over the coals for looking like a 50s era spinster had its effect... It must be so much easier to fire prosecutors without cause when you're sporting the pixie cut.
For anyone who's known me for more than about 2 years, what I am about to reveal is going to come as a significant shock: this past weekend I traveled down to Tampa, Florida to attend the ACC Tournament--and had an absolute blast. If you know basketball at all, you know that the ACC (Atlantic Coast Conference) is home to some of the best basketball in the nation. Duke, UNC, Maryland, Boston College, Virginia, Virginia Tech--all these schools are part of the conference, which means there's some pretty fierce competition to be crowned conference champions and get an automatic bid to the NCAA Tournament.
In any case, we went down because Jessica had to be there for work and we figured we'd make a weekend out of it (not least of all because it was 15 degrees in New York and 80 in Tampa--hard to beat that). Jessica flew down on Friday morning and I followed her after work that night; our friends Kerryann and Allison also came down for the fun. Jessica and I spent most of the day on Sat at the games and at the pool; then we met up with the girls for dinner in this outdoor mall-like place called Channelside. We ate at a restaurant whose menu featured sliders of many kinds (beef, turkey, tuna), freshly caught fish entrees and sushi. Oh, and the best beer battered fries I've had in a long time. Kerryann's sister and brother-in-law joined us for dinner, but peeled off afterwards when we decided to go seek out "Gay Tampa", smartly enough.
Let me give you this piece of advice: If you're ever in Tampa, just forget about seeking out the gay scene. Here's what happened to us: once we had enough alcohol in our veins (Allison, Jess and I shared a 64 oz. bowling ball filled w sangria; whether it was truly alcoholic is still a question in my mind, but we were happy) we hopped a cab from Channelside over to Ybor City in search of a bar whose name KA couldn't "quite" remember. After walking around for half an hour, asking any vaguely gay looking person we could find for directions, we gave up and got in another cab and headed to some place out in the boonies called Valentine's. Valentine's, when we got there, was a large space occupied by about 10 very sad looking gay Latinos, and if I recall correctly the wind chill in the place left the air temperature at about 20 degrees. It was cold. And dark. And scary. And we had no car to get us home. So we did what any good lesbians would do in that situation: we drank. And played darts. And drank some more. And by 2:30, when the place was packed with salsa dancing fools, we decided it was time to go home. A full night, by any standards.
Of course, Allison and Kerryann found some more fun later that night at a little club called Flirt. But that's their story to tell... All I can say is that I woke up on Saturday morning with a picture of a very comely trannie in my inbox.
This little nugget triggered a recollection that has certainly been hibernating in the recesses of my brain since the day in May of 1997 that I was graduated from this particular institution: that no matter how dorky a group of people happens to be, they'll always try to find a way to separate the (relatively) pretty from the not so. I can't believe that I completely forgot that the Rumpus published this Most Beautiful People issue, because even if you disdained it, you couldn't help but grab the first copy you could find (to see whether you, or any of your suitemates) had made it. Anyone who can provide me with a copy of 1997's edition wins $20... and if you can provide me with inside information about what any of those BPs are doing now, I'll throw in 5 more.
At the insistence of my little friend Katie Sherwin, I am posting this article about a Granny Basketball League that's winning hearts in the Midwest. It's a six-on-six basketball league for "older" women (the oldest member is 81 years old), and from what I can tell they're playing the kind of basketball my grandmother played when she was a girl--making it somewhat of a history lesson for those who are keeping score. You can learn more about the league by visiting GrannyBasketball.com. Frankly, the best part about it to me are the uniforms: bloomers and stripey tights!!! Plus, the rules clearly state that neither running nor jumping are allowed. I KNEW there was a sport out there for me!
Laissez les bons temps rouler, as they say down in the Bayou! I don't know how I almost forgot about this but very glad this article in the Times reminded me... May be necessary to see if I can pick myself up a King Cake on my way home; at least I had the subconscious sense to wear purple today. Do something to celebrate, Cajun-style, and remember all those folks down in New Orleans who are still waiting to get their lives back.
Sunset in Aruba
WE did! My friends and I, that is. Last night, at a little spot called the Blind Pig here in Manhattan, my buddies and I hosted an event designed to raise a little money for the children of Renaissance Village, a FEMA constructed trailer park down outside of Baton Rouge, Louisiana. I met a few of the kids who are living there (all victims of Hurricane Katrina) when I was down in the region this past summer, and never could get them out of my mind. Neither could Jess, and so, together with our friends Kerryann, Katie, Vanessa and Allison, we got together and made the decision to do something that might make these kids' lives a tiny bit better.
