A (flip-) Flop from Grace

Thursday night I was in the city to do a focus group (there's nothing better than being paid cold, hard cash to have a discussion about your favorite products...). It being around 10pm on a Thursday night, as I walked back to Penn Station, the sidewalks were filled with 20-and30-something-year-olds dashing into bars and nightspots to start their weekends early. I happened to be in a nicer part of the city with trendy restaurants, bars, and lounges - the types of places that call for a nice outfit. The guys were pretty much carbon-copies of one another; khakis with button-down short-sleeved shirts or polos and loafers. Neat, tidy, dressed for the occasion from head to toe. The girls were also pretty much identical (read: boring) to one another; thin and tan with long straight hair, skimpy but dressy dresses, chunky jewelry and.... FLIP FLOPS. Now, I'm not talking about the nice kind that are dressy with maybe a little heel or a sparkle here or there. I'm talking about the ones you can get on the corner for $1 a pair.

As I continued my walk, I saw woman after woman after woman in nice dresses with those cheap flip-flops. I have no problem if you're pairing them with a casual summer skirt or sundress, but how can somebody dress up nicely for an evening out and actually think of putting something so casual on their feet? At first, I hoped and prayed that these women would be changing their shoes once they arrived at their destination. But no, they walked in and out of these restaurants looking like glossy magazine ads from the ankles up and, quite frankly, disgusting from the ankles down.

I don't quite know how and when we lost pride in how we present ourselves. As an American, I always felt defensive knowing that most of the world thinks that we look like slobs; now, I'm starting to see where they are coming from. Yes, I'm the first one to complain that my feet hurt, even having to take taxis instead of walking or change itineraries because of pain. I can see the argument for comfort. But, come on America! We're at a point where chivalry is almost dead, function has almost completely obliterated form, speed and quantity take precedence over quality, individuality is almost nonexistent. Where is grace? Where is beauty? We women should be lucky that we have the opportunity to look and act with class, femininity, and individuality while still being respected and powerful. A (flip-) flop from our womanhood would be a tragedy, a path I fear that has already begun....

I think I might faint...

Why, why, why, must my attempts at saving money be teased so??? I beg the gods of retail to have mercy on me...

Review: Curtains

The curtain rises: a corny western musical with a talentless star performs its finale on its opening night; the said star is murdered during the curtain call; chaos ensues backstage between the performers, writers, and producers regarding the future of the doomed show; in walks Detective Cioffi of the Boston Police (David Hyde Pierce) to solve this case. And so begins the Broadway hit, "Curtains."

Despite the melancholic chain of events just described, the show is a comedy. It is at once a murder mystery and a melange of different love stories: Detective Cioffi, infatuated with show business, finds himself abandoning his investigative duties to offer constructive criticism of the show. He juggles these endeavors with the wooing of a love interest. These pursuits are matched in intensity with stories of maternal love, unrequited love, old lovers, and new beginnings.

The show-within-a-show plot allowed for varied and contrasting whole-cast scenes. Those taking place in backstage Boston were good with their tasteful costuming and traditional choreography; those taking place in the 'Western' were phenomenal. Raunchy was acceptable, given the plot: coy barmaids, obscene and suggestive gestures, lewd clothing characterized the ensembles. But beyond that was the choreography: a full stage of performers doing flips and turns and acrobatics, losing sight of which way is up and which way is down. In terms of singing, the talent abounded, each solo eliciting, "what a voice!" whispers from the audience members.

The show's only fault is that it is a Broadway musical, and thus must succumb to certain cliched characteristics (as my friend helped me to identify): In the tradition of Broadway shows, its comedy translates into banal jokes and forced lines - even the laughs by the audience appear scripted. True to Broadway predecessors, the prerequisite characters are all there: a brusque 'matron' (played by Debra Monk), an overly-theatrical (read: irritating) innocent love interest, and a floosy blond.

In sum, the story is intriguing, the scenes are excellent, and the 'Broadway' is tolerable.

My Brush with Nature

This evening, as I was heading out to pick up some sushi, I noticed a woman and her teen-aged son stopped on the walkway of my complex. They were hunched over and discussing something. As I approached, the woman pointed to a beautiful butterfly that was lying on the walkway. I've never seen such a large butterfly; my guess is that the wingspan was about 6 or 7 inches long. The wings were brown, with purple and yellow circles on it. The butterfly seemed injured, and the woman used a stick to prop the butterfly onto a very large leaf, and scooped it up into the grass.

I then ran into another neighbor, who asked what was going on. I showed her the butterfly, and after a few seconds, it became more active and crawled down off the grass, across the walkway, and onto the grass on the other side of the path. We began to examine it, and my neighbor declared, "I think it's constipated." Sure enough, something was being excreted from the body of the butterfly. We continued to peek, and then I took a gander that perhaps it was laying eggs. I'm including a photo so that you can see the little white dots.

Unfortunately, by the time I got to my camera, the butterfly folded itself in half. I do have photos of it with an open wingspan, but they are on my phone, and I don't know how to get phone pictures onto my computer! Anyways, enjoy these shots (well, maybe not the
one with the eggs and/or poop)...l. I hope the poor guy (or gal, if it's giving birth) survives the ordeal.... I'm so glad we humans have doctors to help us through this stuff. Truth be told, as amazing and beautiful this butterfly was, I'm a little grossed out and feel all itchy now, like there's stuff crawling on me or something. I guess there's a reason why I prefer the city over nature.

Some More Product Plugs (and their stories)

Pizza: I've been trying to eat as healthy as possible, choosing organic when available (and when budget-friendly), eliminating hydrogenated oils, avoiding over-processed foods, etc. The two biggest challenges I've had to this are 1) the cost, and 2) nights like tonight when I don't feel like cooking and just want a quick bite (i.e. frozen food). To the supermarket I went tonight, finally deciding on Amy's Veggie Pizza (made with organic veggies and a whole wheat crust). The price was a little steep: about $7, but the knowledge that I could get two meals out of this, and thus the price was only $3.50 per meal, made it much more palatable. Well, the pizza was delicious. The crust got nice and crunch and tasted amazing. Like the back of the box promised, there was the perfect proportion of toppings to the crust thickness. A must-try.

Snack: Stacey's Pita Chips are delicious and, a warning, addictive!

Blister Pads: Seriously, don't make fun of me, but I LOVE the Band-Aid brand blister pads. You can use these two ways. The first is as a preventative measure: just put one on where your shoe is rubbing against your foot. The second is to prevent further pain if you already have a blister (just place it right over the blister). They are nice and thick to prevent any rubbing
and really stay in place - for a few days! I also like that they are exactly the same color as my skin and thus barely detectable. They come in two shapes/sizes: The first is made for fingers and toes, made to wrap around the appendage. The second is a larger, oval-shaped piece that's perfect for the back of your heel.

Review: Beneath A Marble Sky (by John Shors)

In his debut novel, John Shors has created a passionate story about love and life. Set in India (then known as Hindustan) in the 1600's, this is the story of the building of the great Taj Mahal and about the destiny of the Empire. Told by the princess daughter of the emperor who commissioned this spectacular feat of architecture and the empress whose love inspired him to do so, this book is the weaving of love stories of two different generations. The love of the emperor and his wife is echoed in the love that Princess Jahanara experiences in her forbidden feelings for the Taj Mahal's architect.

And whilst the love stories are so strongly felt by the reader, they are indeed only one element in the lives of these well-developed characters. The story begins with a secure Empire where art flourished, different religions were not only tolerated but appreciated, and wealth abounded. Slowly, sibling rivalries are developed, war and hate dominates, and the strengths of the characters must overcome the most heartbreaking of obstacles on a personal level in order to survive the political upheaval over which they have no control.

For the reader, this book will transport you to another era in another place. Shors does a wonderful job of developing his characters and making them feel like real people. He avoids the pitfall of most authors: in this novel you will not find the overdevelopment of a character; you will not find the annoying and frustrating 'polarization' of traits to the point that the character no longer resembles anything close to a real person. Instead, you will fall in love with Princess Jahanara; you will feel her plight, you will delight in her joys. You will know who she is and how she thinks, and will understand her internal and external conflicts. And in the end, when you're done reading the last page, you will sigh for her. And like the lives of real people, the sigh is neither for polarized happiness nor tragedy, but rather for all the feelings in between.

Forbidden City

(Thought it was a while since I posted photos; I took this one at the Forbidden City in Beijing)

A New Therapy

I, loathing any activity that induces sweating (I've concluded that I'm allergic to my own sweat), never understood those people that, when under circumstantial stress, declare "I need to take a run..." How something as begrudging as taking a run could actually be desirable and mind-clearing is totally mind-boggling to me. Or should I say, WAS mind-boggling to me. Tonight, I had the unfortunate displeasure of being upset about something. Feeling absolutely suffocated in my apartment, I suddenly had the urge to run. Out the door I went, and I only ended up running for a block or so before switching over to a brisk walk. The fresh air felt so good, and I couldn't get enough of it into my lungs.

I eventually found myself at a playground, and I decided to take to the swings. It was dusk at this point and the place was empty. I couldn't believe how easily the movements came back to me and after a few swings, I was soaring high. Swinging up high was totally thrilling and invigorating, and made me feel free (and like a second grader again). Music from the Beatles, Radiohead, and Cat Stevens streaming from my ipod calmed me and helped me to think clearly. And yes, I've considered the irony that a mental health professional such as myself has found a run/walk and a swingset to be the ultimate therapy....

Strawberry Festival?

Two weeks ago, on my drive home from work, I couldn't help but notice a very large banner stretching across the busiest street in my town. It advertised a strawberry festival at a church about 2 miles north of my apartment. This sort of thing being right up my alley, I eagerly awaited the date and thought of the strawberry shortcakes and crepes, crafts stands, food vendors, etc. that would certainly be there. I mean, it had to be a huge event to warrant such a big banner on prime realty, right? Finally the date arrived; I donned cute but comfy walking shoes and loaded up my camera with fresh batteries and an empty memory card. I walked up there to find a beautiful old little church, built in stone and red wood and.... a garage sale table, a barbeque with hotdogs, and people selling Driscoll's strawberries. That's it: a total of three tables and about 25 people.

Wandering around took me all of 10 minutes. I then peered through the covered walkway of the church and discovered a picturesque little cemetery, with rolling hills donned with eclectic and randomly scattered tombstones. It's fair if you find this creepy: cemeteries used to have the same effect on me. However, over the past few years, I've come to love them. There's this sense of quietness yet a feeling that you're not alone. Reading names and dates of people and their relatives, it's a dream world for an overactive imagination (like mine). Two things struck me about this cemetery. The first was the random layout of the plots. They were not in neat rows, but rather scattered about. I even found some hidden behind hedges. The second was that next to the cemetery was a playground. Yep, right there. The symbolism of the cirlce of life could not be more present....

On the walk back, I met the most endearing doggie....

At the Beach

Today, we took select students on an annual field trip to Lido Beach. Lido Beach is on the south shore of Long Island in Nassau County. The weather was so-so; the temperature was perfect (warm with a cooling breeze) but it was overcast and foggy. The water's temperature was surprisingly warm once you got in there! I only went up to my knees, but the crashing waves ended up splashing me pretty much everywhere! The kids had a great time; it was so nice to see them relax and have the opportunity to be kids.

I realized when I was at the beach that, even though the beach is not one of my favorite places (it's hot, the sand is annoying, saltwater burns my shaven legs, and I detest how I look in a bathing suit), I don't think that I could ever live more than a few miles away from the ocean. I have always been able to smell the ocean from my front door on a hot, muggy night. And there's something about going to the beach on a warm summer evening, just feeling the saltwater air on your skin and lips. It's amazing how being so close to the water is so ingrained in me; something that I never really thought about until now. Here's to the Atlantic!

Not as Young as I Used to Be....

This past Friday, my brother invited me to see a Billy Joel cover band (by the name of Big Shot) at Mulcahy's in Wantagh. If you live in the tri-state area, chances are that you've heard of Mulcahy's. I'm not sure of what it's done to earn such a legendary reputation, but it's unfortunately what's put my hometown on the map. It really is just a big bar by the train station that happens to get decent cover bands and is the cause of many stumbling drunks on the train platform on a weekend night.

Anyways, I thought that it would be fun to spend some quality time with my brother before he leaves for his volunteer teaching position somewhere in the US. The festivities began in our backyard, where he and a bunch of his friends had a beer pong tournament/barbeque. I just participated in the latter of these events. Afterwards, we walked over to Mulcahy's, getting there just as Big Shot was about to start. I have to say that the band was incredible. The lead singer really sounded like Billy Joel, and if you looked down for a minute, you'd forget that it wasn't him singing. The scene though was definitely NOT what I am used to! I struggled with what to order, not being a big fan of beer and feeling silly ordering a real drink in a sea of beer-drinkers. I quickly eliminated my favorite champagne cocktails from consideration. I also quickly realized that myself and my friend Lauren were the oldest people there, save for a handful of middle-aged folks (whom I'm assuming were there strictly for the music) and a wierd guy who resembled Beaker from the Muppets. My brother kept running into people from high school and college, and the whole time, as I stood, staring at these 22-year-olds (and remembering when they were like 8 years old!), all I could think was "man, when did I get so old?!?!"

In all seriousness, I had a great time out with my brother. He introduced me to a few drinks I'd never had before, and I even danced a little! Thanks Paul!

A Shoe Penalty

This past Thursday, my building finally decided to share with me their shoe dress code (I've only been working there for two years, I mean, why the rush?). Turns out, I am not allowed to wear shoes with open backs. This poses no problem to me in the winter, as I'm usually in pumps or boots (and I personally am not too big a fan of mules, but that's another story for another day....). But in the warmer months, this dress code means that I can't slip into a pair from my variety of slides.

I know that this may be a quandry for some, but for me, it was just an excuse to go shoe-shopping. I held myself to just two new pairs of shoes, one a peep-toe with a sling back, and the other a sandal wedge with an ankle strap. As for my red, orange, green, blue, pink, brown, beige, and black pairs of summer slides? I suppose now you'll be exclusively part of the "going out" collection, removed permanently from the work collection.....