Andrea Meets the Boy From Oz

I was on a blind date (set up by Sharyl, Ms. Doylestown herself) at The Oak Room. Before arriving, Craig met a couple Katrina & Kerry regulars at the establishment...who had recently bought an apartment at The Plaza. Katrina was very pleasant, genuinely charming, she garnered respect from everyone in the room and more or less knew the entire staff.

Craig & I joined Katrina & Kerry for dinner...The Oak Room Bar, newly renovated by restaurateur Joey Allaham and Chef Joel Antunes was an experience even for this native New Yorker, a wondrous way to kick off the week. My meal started with sea urchin on a bed of creamy polenta foam, followed by roast loin of lamb with artichoke hearts and ending with the most decadent of desserts: Rice Pudding w/Cointreau, Pumpkin Pots de Creme, Miniature Madelines, and a plate of pastries fit enough for a king.

Katrina, god bless her soul put me to shame with her social butterfly etiquette making new friends by the handful. Whilst she was away we had the pleasure of ogling Richard Gere at a neighboring table, and upon her return introduced us to Joey Allaham and his wife Lauren. A charming, and beautiful, couple. A short while later, after another social circle of conversation Katrina returns to tell us we're crashing the party next door at the Palm Court for the premiere of the new Hugh Jackman & Nicole Kidman movie Australia.

In NYC fashion, we pose as Katrina & Kerry's daughter and son-in-law and soon we're mingling with the celebrity studded crowd--filled with people who look familiar but are unrecognizable. As we a are wandering about I spot a dashingly handsome man in a 3-piece suit, its Hugh Jackman of course ...the date is thinking we should plot to get a picture, we conspire ...but it feels too invasive, he's there with his wife and family friends....

We pause to strike up a conversation with one of the secret service security guys (a moonlighting NYPD detective and I wonder if he knows Ray). We start chatting about celeb duty... and Eddie Boyle (born in Flatbush, now from Rockville Center), asks how we got in and I who cannot tell a lie come clean. Eddie laughs and asks if I've taken a photo with the man...I shake my head and he responds "If you're brazen enough to crash a party then what's stopping you from getting a photo?" Well he had a point and so with nothing to lose we make our move. We're hovering in the queue of fans milling around the movie star...and Eddie sweet Eddie leans toward Mr. Jackman, whispers in his ear and the next thing I know I'm being formally introduced to Mr. Jackman himself. The date takes a photo using my phone its kind of grainy but one of thing's for sure Hugh Jackman is charming, gracious, and yes, ultimately gorgeous.

The Desk Stops Here

A cluttered desk says so little and yet so much about a person. Try as I might I attempt to keep the surface area organized but some days I find it just as taxing as the line items on my to do list. To think that the desks here at 770 offer less space...it certainly doesn't seem that way. We've been at our space for just a week and my cube feels as if its been lived in for years...there are even Olympic ring coffee stains marring the counter top.

In a survey of what I can see, on the keyboard level of my desk:

a bamboo tree drinking water and turning yellow;
the newly crocheted scarf I received from a friend;
piles of paper with scribblings in ink and in lead;
Netflix movies to return;
my weekly calendar (as much as I try I cannot not write things down);
typed up to do lists to keep me on track;
newspaper articles with copy circled for use in presentations;
a neon clipboard with trade articles to review;
two water bottles half-filled;
a cactus stone garden (a welcome gift from the company when we moved);
an iPod idling on pause, earphones dangling off the desktop;
coupons and reminder postcards for doctor appointments;
a day's old worth of coffee (still smells good, tastes awful);
a pair of eyeglasses;
a jar full of pens, pencils, plastic utensils and scissors;
a purple mouse pad and wrist guard;
the Synonym Finder (one of the best writing resources); and
an HP printer.

Loretta

the loss of anyone in your life is hard to stomach but someone who shaped you into the woman you have become? now that is a challenge every daughter and granddaughter must face at some point, and we are never ready for it when it does happen.

a friend of mine lost her grandmother recently. stories of Loretta were always colorful, filled with character. she was a spitfire, and though I never had the chance to meet her personally, the little that I know, the impact she had on my friend's life, is enough to know she will be terribly missed.

peaceful journey Loretta, rest in peace.

listless thoughts

how will the denial of a bailout affect our livelihoods? what will make the powers that be sit up at attention and realize that things are running amok? who is in control? i thought this was a free nation but it feels as if the rug has been pulled out from beneath us.

my insides are blindly confused by the state of the world today.

sleep escape

Life is something you do when you can't get to sleep, that's how i feel right now. The quote is written on the spine of the most recent issue of Real Simple.

I can't sleep...am wide awake. Astounded really. I did sleep in on Saturday but had a fitful active evening starting at 4pm. Grocery shopping, prepping, cooking dinner for Emily & Kristin. I made a most ambitious meal: Tortellini w/Eggplant & Peppers; Chicken Cutlets w/Spinach and Pumpkin Bread. Everything was scrumptious, and most importantly we had time to catch up and shoot the s* in girl's night style.

Emily left around 11 for the drive back to Philly. Kristin and I watched marathon episodes of the second season of Charmed while playing a round of Scrabble.

Maybe that's why I can't sleep--all that conjuring still clear in my head. Maybe it's the White Vanilla Tea. Maybe it's something altogether different that I have no clue about. All I do know is that it's 5AM on Sunday and I'm not tired. :(

forgotten

The morning is gray. The sun hiding. The apartment is damp, the summer over. The rain cries from the sky, nearby trees in hues of green shake. The street is quiet. Save the ticking of the clock, and the rumbling of my stomach it appears that I am alone. Friday the last one in September. My thoughts are wishy washy. Unclear. Stilted. I am a figurine in a snow globe encased in its cardboard packaging, a Christmas gift unwrapped admired for a moment and then stowed away in the attic.

decisions

I've decided that i have failed this blog by not committing myself to at least one post a day. There are no rules, the words need not be the beginning of a novel, a letter to myself but they should be, they should breathe. I hereby test myself to remember to write when I find myself online. Let us see if I can live up to the promises I make to myself as equally as I do for others.

wise words to reflect on

Wise words from Paulo Coelho's Warrior of Light newsletter:

Why go on fighting

Reader Gerson Luiz tells the story of a rose that longed for the company of the bees, but none would come to her.

Even so, the flower was still capable of dreaming. When she felt all alone, she would imagi­ne a garden filled with bees that came to kiss her. And so she managed to resist until the next day, when she opened her petals again.

“Aren’t you tired?” someone must have asked her.

“No. I have to go on fighting,” answered the flower.

“Why?”

“Because if I don’t open up, I wither.”


Learning to see

Buddha gathered his disciples and showed them a lotus flower.

“I want you to tell me something about what I hold in my hand.”

The first gave a whole treaty on the importance of flowers. The second composed a lovely poem about its petals. The third invented a parable using the flower as an example.

Now it was Mahakashyap’s turn. He came up to Buddha, smelt the flower, and caressed his face with one of the petals.

“This is a lotus flower,” said Mahakashyap. “Simple, like everything that comes from God. And beautiful, like everything that comes from God.”

“You were the only one who saw what I hold in my hand,” was Buddha’s comment.


In search of a wise man

For days the couple traveled almost without speaking. Finally they arrived in the middle of the forest, and found the wise man.

“My companion said almost nothing to me during the whole journey,” said the young man.

“A love without silence is a love without depth,” answered the wise man.

“But she didn’t even say that she loved me!”

“Some people always claim that. And we end up wondering if their words are true.”

The three of them sat down on a rock. The wise man pointed to the field of flowers all around them.

“Nature isn’t always repeating that God loves us. But we realize that through His flowers.”


In the flower shop

The woman was strolling through a shopping mall when she noticed a poster announcing a new flower shop. When she went in, she got a shock; she saw no vases, no arrangements, and it was God in person who stood behind the counter.

“You can ask for whatever you want,” said God.

“I want to be happy. I want peace, money, the capacity to be understood. I want to go to heaven when I die. And I want all this to be granted to my friends too.”

God opened a few pots that were on the shelf behind him, removed some grains from inside, and handed them to the woman.

“Here you have the seeds,” He said. “Begin to plant them, because here we don’t sell the fruits.”

What is Real?

"What is real?" asked the Velveteen Rabbit one day.

"Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?"

"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you- it doesn't happen all at once. You become. It takes a long time. Generally, by the time you become real most of your hair has been loved off and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand".

- by Margery Williams

loquacious

there is a bird chirping outside my bedroom window. the most talkative bird I've ever heard