Desert Magnolia

Like a sunbeam shining in my office, warming me, bathing my desk in a beautiful yellow glow. Like a London Fog with Blue Eyes, hot, sitting by my laptop. Like the knowledge that this is Friday eve. Like knowing tonight is Bones and Gray's Anatomy, and I'm going to watch them while wearing my flannel pjs. Like knowing that hubby is making Mahi Mahi, garlic green beans and rice for dinner. Like knowing that I bought a cool new nail polish today, Sonia Kashuk, Taupe...it's an interesting color, and I'm going to try it when I give myself my Sunday afternoon pedi. (Which, on a good Sunday, is accompanied by one of Hubby's signature lemon drop, or as in the case last week, fresh pomegranate martinis. Of course I have to be pretty much done with the detail work before partaking since they tend to be, rather stiff, ahem, but oh so delicious and now permanently part of my self-pedi routine.) Simple stuff, right? The key to life.

If you've ever spent any time in NYC, you know what I'm talking about here. The most wonderful bakery in probably the entire universe. Specializing in cupcakes, though strong in the cakes and other sweet treats arena. Between meetings, late one afternoon, Erin and I decided we needed a little boost, and what do you know, right around the corner from the Time Warner building (where we'd experienced a signin process that rivaled the best airport security I've encountered, complete with the bag search/scan...), there was a Magnolia Bakery. It was kismet. Our choice? Red velvet cupcakes with cream cheese frosting. And a milk. Because really, that or a big coffee are the only way to wash the creamy red velvet yumminess down in our humble opins. Red velvet cupcakes. Picture from Food Network.com We chose to indulge in said cupcakes in Rockefeller Center. By the fountain, which, at that moment, was full of cranberries and Ocean Spray workers dressed in chest wader...

Someone teased me about it, so I just want to clarify. When I went to pack for this last trip I did NOT use Ziplocs for my clothes or shoes, after all. The effort seemed...ludicrous and like overkill when I seriously thought about it. I did roll my clothes up, though. And that worked fabulously. I only had to iron once, and it was really a touchup that was prompted by pre-media meeting nerves. I probably could have worn that blouse a little wrinkly and nobody would have noticed because they were focusing on my energy and what was coming out of my mouth and the essence of our meeting, right? Which is why I decided to touch that baby up. So, Ziplocs 0, Ironing 1. That I can live with. Can you? :-)

The saddle, being the office. Back, being from the East Coast. And now, it's about following up with the media. About putting details around the end of the year planning for work. About preparing to be in Ft. Lauderdale at the end of next week for a business tradeshow. JL and I are going to this, and if last year is any indicator, will have a great time and kick butt, which is so fun. Then, we get back, and the week after that I'm in DC for another conference, this time as an attendee. Never been to DC. Heard it's awesome. Great food. Movers and shakers. History. The capital. Stuff like that. Then, once we're back from DC, Daughter comes home for Thanksgiving. Yay! Lots on the near horizon, then blissful holidays beginning with a big old roasted bird, savory stuffing, yams, sauteed green beans, gravy, and the fixings.... Personally, I think I'm ready this year. For the togetherness piece. For the backgammon games in front of a crackling fire. For snuggli...

Don't expect cohesive, coherent thoughts here, it's been a long day after a long weekend and I'm kind of maxed out but still felt compelled to..write about things. Daughter, is doing well. She's adjusting. She's...a college Freshman, and is experiencing all that entails plus the being an athlete thing, which is a lot. I'm not sure which of us benefited more from my whirlwind visit, her or me. I know for sure that my heart filled and I breathed a deep deep breath when we hugged at the airport...she smiled and we hugged and I felt a deep little nagging ache ebb a bit with that. She's focused...on finishing healing, on exploding as the player she knows she is but hasn't been able to express this last year. She's working hard in hard classes and figuring out how to study..effectively...well..at that level. It's not easy, but we all have to figure it out that Freshman year or sink..and she's a swimmer. She's dreading the Providence w...

The day after tomorrow, I'm outta here! Of course, in spite of having waaaaaay too many shoes (if you ask Hubby), I decided I needed to update my collection for this trip, and picked up these (yes I know they're basics, that's the point): My very favorite Bandolinos ever... Technically, these are replacing my Nine West pumps of the same look/feel, but which have many many miles on them and are ready to retire to the place where well worn pumps go to rest. I also found a really cute platformy Aerosole sandals, in patent black, with a retro look and feel..they're a sling back with a peep toe..super cute, and if I could find a photo of them I'd show you but I don't have one and don't have more time to devote to finding one. Anyway, I woke up. Early. Like 3 a.m. early, going over my packing list. I've already created my outfit list, appended with my misc. extra stuff list (note to self, take an umbrella and Hubby's cool rain jacket he wor...

A year since Daughter hurt her knee. A year since Mama went cold inside, from fear, from worry, from anger and mostly from not knowing what the hell was next for her girl. What came next I chronicled on my blog, sometimes with a positive spin, sometimes, in darker days, with more weight than not. But now we're a year out. Not quite eleven months since her surgery. And she is nearly, almost, approaching, some semblance of normal again. A fucking YEAR. But she is fine. And is getting stronger, and sassier, and loves Providence, and loves being in college (except for the fact that it is HARD and requires LOTS of studying which seriously steps on her social life). And she's stretching her brain, finding her way far far away from her familiar ground. I get to see her this next weekend. I'm headed to NYC for a conference and then some meetings with media, and I get to fly into Providence and hug my sweet girl and take her to dinner and look into her eyes and see f...

A text from Son yesterday: "I'm sipping a martini, enjoying wonderful food, looking out my window at the world's tallest building." Today's e-missive string: 'How cool does this sound; "I'm on a business trip in Dubai." "Oh, working for NYU!"   "I have to admit, I'm feeling pretty cool right now." Ya think???  I don't know where he gets the attitude, I really don't.

Tipper Ann is quite the feline. She's white, with a gray blaze on her forehead and a gray tip on her tail. She grooms incessantly, is a creature of habit, and has perfected the art of owning a human being. I, as it turns out, am her human. Make no mistake, I buy her Science Diet and organic kitty treats, see that she's well and cared for and has a clean litter box at all times and knows she's well and truly adored, but in the end, I am her subject. Her pet. Her hers hers. The cool thing about a very distinguished cat? They're goofy too. Like the time when she was draped over the ironing board, espied her own tail, and played keep away with herself for about twenty minutes. Or the time when she decided that it was waaaay fun to run full speed down the hall, across the entryway, through the kitchen, then do a ninety degree turn into the breakfast nook, losing traction in her backend and skidding like crazy before she regained her footing then accelerated again, this...

You know how when stuff just kind of falls out your mouth as you think it? No passing Go, no thinking through it, it just exits in a stream of consciousness way? Happens to me a lot, more since I've begun looking at 45 in the rear view mirror, for some reason. I take vitamins. Exercise. Stimulate my brain with new information. Do crossword puzzles. Encourage my creativity in both culinary and other ways. But still, the words tumble with no apparent plan behind them. This weekend, while enjoying our new buddha garden, Hubby and I were chatting, enjoying our glass of wine, the serenity of the garden, the evening. Me: [Wiggling my toes as I'm sitting in my Adirondack] , 'What do you think of my flower, honey?' Hubby: 'What flower? Oh, pretty. Nice toes. Did you paint that on yourself?' Me: 'Um, no. I'm not that talented. ' Hubby:  [Wiggling his eyebrows] 'Oh, I wouldn't say that...' Me: [Flustered] 'Geesh.  But thanks...