An ongoing quest for the meaning of life. Does true happiness exist in a Tory Burch turquoise-trimmed sheath, a MarieBelle Dark Chocolate Croquette bar, a rose garden, a rocky Maine beach, a daughter's eyes, an inky star-sprinkled sky, hours of computer keystrokes that tell a story--or all of the above?
Pretty things that put sparkle and joy in my Thursday:
This former fruit avoider ate organic ruby-red raspberries tonight, wrapped up in a real French crepe flown to the U.S. from Brittany. Kings in Upper Montclair and in Verona both stock them in the freezer case, about $11.99 per pack. This getting of high-end brands is a big reason why I like Kings. Each crepe is 150 calories with a modest 6 grams added sugar. I rolled mine around freshly whipped organic cream and a sprinkle of pure, dark Valrhona cocoa for good measure. Antioxidants twice, between the berries and the deeply colored cocoa. Spice likes hers with Nutella, berries and bananas but I usually avoid Nutella because I might spoon through the whole jar. I brought this dessert up to the country once as a house guest (Dan F. and Suzy's house in Hudson, NY) and everyone loved it.
Went to America's Best Contacts & Eyeglasses for an eye exam and new glasses. Scored really nice Ralph by Ralph Lauren black sunglass frames on sale, to be fitted with updated prescription reading lenses. Same for another hip pair of reading frames. I got blue light protection for the first time (not sure I need it? Do you?). This America's Best is in a strip mall in Clifton but is clean, well-stocked and professional. And the cost of a thorough two-part eye exam by Lucy (sp) and then by a doctor, plus the two pairs of glasses, came to $192.95. I don't have vision coverage on my health insurance.
Wriggled into my cozy sweater and walked along Valley Road, down Macopin and up Nassau at about 6:15 p.m. Saw lots of perky yellow daffodils and ran into my neighbor and friend Beth walking back up the hill. We met when our girls were in kindergarten at the neighborhood school. We talked for a good while, pausing our walks.
Watching "Riding in Cars with Boys," the 2001 movie directed by Penny Marshall and starring Drew Barrymore as Bev, a Connecticut girl who gets pregnant at 15 in the 1960s. Lorraine Bracco plays her mother, Brittany Murphy plays her best friend, and they're great. So are the sixties hairstyles, clothing, furnishings and cars. The movie is based on an autobiography by Beverly Donofrio. Dan has been very busy this week working in Palm Springs, California and now the Boston area tonight, so I have the living room cinema to myself.
Also did my work on a magazine assignment and arranged a blowout for an upcoming job interview.
Photo from NY Times review of the Irish documentary"Housewife of the Year," playing in the Village.
Illustration by Conor Merriman/Juno Films, Inc. 2025.
That glittery city, that gritty city. Its frissons of energy give our batteries a jolt. Its hard-boiled love runs deep. New Yorkers may seem to keep to themselves, but lose your pearl necklace walking around at lunch as a young woman or have your handbag stolen as the subway doors close, and watch people step up and step in.
Dan and I were young writers on those sidewalks, winding up and down streets and across avenues, chasing our dreams, wearing down the heels of our shoes. We were young believers, newlyweds, parents. We looked up to people--our editors, our writing and reporting peers and our idols (Tom Wolfe, Mary Cantwell, Helen Thomas), our parents, our friends, our siblings. (We still do.) We marveled at the city's gifts, free for the taking. The skyline. The Empire State Building. The Flatiron Building. The Village. The arch at Washington Square Park. Hot bagels, F train rides, Central Park, the day the circus came to town.
We are not young now, but if we somehow live until 95, then we are only about 2/3 through life. Time enough to chase more dreams.
Lately, we did a couple of NYC firsts.
Saturday-night movie and late supper in the Village.Nothing on our many local NJ movie screens interested me this weekend. Dan, my entertainment concierge, discovered"Housewife of the Year" playing at Quad Cinema on West 13th Street. It's a documentary about a televised competition that aired in Ireland from 1969 to 1995. Check this NY Times review Dan found. I loved the film. The hairdos, dresses, skirts, shoes, stockings and jewelry the contestants wore; the glimpse at the husbands, how each couple met; the roles women were expected to play; the back stories; the talents; the toothy grins; the charming, wry TV host, Gay Byrne; the number of children each lady had (one with 13!!!!); and the dinners they made to woo the judges (roast lamb, fancy potatoes, custards, etc.). The way women's roles slowly changed with reproductive rights. The Catholic Church's strong clench, and slow release, on family choices.
Surprise, the young, award-winning Irish director, Ciaran Cassidy, was there afterward, to field questions. So cool. I felt like a student again--and we were right near The New School, where we had gotten reacquainted in an evening writing class and started dating.
Then we walked across the street to Da Andrea, a bustling Italian restaurant, for 9:30 dinner. We sat at the curved end of the small bar and Nelson took us in, between manning the cocktail shaker and pouring the wines. Warm, tender bread with olive oil,spinach ravioli stuffed with truffle mushroom and fluffy ricotta, then the perfect period at the end of the sentence, my latte and Dan's baby-size espresso with two tiny biscotti, a parting gift we ate with relish. Nelson poured us a glass of the restaurant's homemade limoncello, delicious, before we slipped out into the night. We plan to return to Andrea.
Dinner at The Waverly Inn! I'd been curious for years about this exclusive West Village hideaway co-owned by Graydon Carter of Vanity Fair editor fame.We wanted a nice place for Monday dinner on President's Day Weekend, to celebrate our February 17 wedding anniversary (34 years). The Waverly had a table at 5 or 9 p.m., so we went early. The truffled macaroni and cheese was well over $100, but other entrees were in reach.
Looming larger than life: Legendary magazine editor Graydon Carter. Photo by Sasha Maslov for The New York Times.
The dinner opener delivered without question to your table, simple circle biscuits served warm with a ramekin of butter. Perfection. Recipe wanted. The Iceberg Wedge Salad was very nice with the crispy bacon on the side, since Dan is a vegetarian. I wouldn't rave about the rest of the food we had, but the ambiance--that provided the golden nourishment. This menu item caught my eye, for perspective: Aged Beef Tomahawk Rib Chop for Two, Black Truffle Butter, Choice of Two Sides 265. Yes, $265.
Roaring fireplaces, prominent mantels, a famous mural, cocktails, good people-watching. We were in close quarters with the in crowd. We had all ducked in from the cold, descending the stairs to an historic space. I won't lie, I did feel a little "less than," and that's not a great feeling. Even at the Plaza, Gramercy Tavern, the Four Seasons (only there once for Saturday night coffee and dessert, wandered in with Dan), Le Cirque, I didn't feel that way. Was that a gift of youth, that blending in and looking good? Does smooth skin and a svelte shape mean acceptance?
Anyway, next time, I will wear better shoes to a place run by the king of vanity publishing and Oscar fêtes. But one of my black suede Italian pumps went missing in my closet. (As a new college grad, I heard that Condé Nast interviewers look right at your footwear to evaluate style and substance. And the pretty raven-haired HR person did just that.) Mr. Carter lives a stone's throw away, so walking that neighborhood felt important. Two of his beloved vintage cars were (carefully) parked along Bank Street.
It was fun to get out of the suburbs. Holding a key to the city means we can always get a welcome jolt.
We left at 9 a.m. for the Sharks & Seals walk and talk at Coast Guard Beach, led by park ranger Valerie. It was everything we hoped it would be, and free of charge, of course, part of the Cape Cod National Seashore event schedule.
It started raining, we saw seals bobbing in the waves, Valerie passed around a shark's tooth and showed us a seal's skull (its sharp teeth can hurt when it bites).
We met a lovely couple from England in the group, Patience and Simon, and discussed the merits of good English teatime. (Piping hot boiling water to brew the tea.) They live near the coast, the place you see in "Wicked Little Letters," that great English dark mystery comedy film Figgy and I took in last month at the Clairidge. It stars Olivia Colman, Jessie Buckley, Anjana Vasan and others, a stellar cast.
Greg, Sis, me and Meggy on Coast Guard Beach after the Sharks & Seals walk.
We went out to breakfast and lattes at The Whisk in Orleans, a first for us, and good. Then stopped by Nauset (as opposed to Nauset Light) Beach, to look for more seals but didn't find them in the misty rain. Back home to rest and read, play Wordle.
For dinner, we drove to Chatham and Sis treated us all to a splurge dinner at The Impudent Oyster, a popular, longstanding restaurant that my brother Will and Kelly love. It's the kind of place with excellent whipped potatoes, good wine, ample helpings of steak au poivre and halibut. I had bouillabaisse (BOO-yə-BESS, -BAYSS), a traditional fish soup, with steamed Wellfleet oysters, mussels, scallops, clams, shrimp and lobster, and a slice of garlic toast on top to dunk in the rich fish broth. The dish came with a lobster bib and metal cracker. I had to open the big claw to coax the meat from the bright orange shell. The bread and butter for the table was not as divine (or warmed?) as I remember from rare visits 20+ years ago, but.....
The restaurant is right near my beloved Lilly Pulitzer store, a shrine to pretty fashion and accessories, where I bought beautiful summer shift dresses for both of our little girls back when. And around the corner from the adorable Candy Manor, a fixture with its signature pink awning and hand-dipped chocolates, but both shops were closed for the night. We stopped by the little white lighthouse, which never closes, its beam spinning in the fog.
Then 30 minutes to drive back home on winding Route 28, past water views, charming houses with white picket fences and hydrangeas, two historic windmills.
It is never boring here. There is always something to see, hear, do, read or eat. Breezes. Birds calling. The Cape Cod Times (now $3 at the Superette in Eastham!). Fudge in square metal pans. Donuts people line up for. Shellfish. Cocktails. Souvenir sweatshirts, some quite soft and pretty. And people who live and work here, workers, teachers, contractors and women who stand behind counters in candy shops and banks. Summer help, college kids serving swirled frozen custard cones, rolling them in chocolate or rainbow sprinkles. The handsome, helpful young man at the bike shop who has been there 10 years.
Well, tomorrow we clean and lock up the house, but before that we rise at 7 a.m. to get ready for the Early Bird Walk at the Wellfleet Bay Wildlife Sanctuary, 8 to 10 a.m. Seems like things are going okay at home, and that is great progress compared to other years. I am much more relaxed being away with Dan at home. Fingers crossed, prayers in my heart.
I drove our Toyota Camry through the Tunnel, past the Meatpacking District and over old cobblestone streets into hip Tribeca to see a movie called "Little Wing," released yesterday by the streaming service Paramount+. It is based on a New Yorker piece about a girl and her pigeons, a true story by the writer Susan Orlean (author of The Orchid Thief). I got to talk briefly to Ms. Orlean after. I plan to blog about this tomorrow. (Punch has no school for teacher conference. I aim to rise early and tackle my article, again, and then later, after other paid work, I can blog.)
I received the jolt of energy and intellectual and cultural sophistication I sought when I left New Jersey for New York City at 5 p.m. And I saw that glamorous skyline, the lights glittering in the dark like pocketfuls of white jewels suspended over a kingdom.
“Scream VI” is from legendary Paramount Pictures. Although I enjoyed the film,
I could not bring myself to put a photo of Ghostface here.
I surprised not just Dan but myself by wanting to see “Scream VI” at the movies.
I’ve long avoided slasher films. “Rear Window” or even “Psycho,” masterful Hitchcock thrillers, are more my taste. When I lived alone in my NJ apartment by the sea, where the breeze stirred my bedroom curtains, I would not have been able to stomach a real slasher film. I had nightmares there after reading The Stranger Beside Me, a paperback about detective Ann Rule’s relationship with serial killer Ted Bundy.
But we had been homebound, the weather was dreary, and Punch was out, enjoying her social life.
By Saturday night, I had to get off the couch.
“I’m antsy,” I told Dan. The most exciting thing we had done all day was laundry and dishes. Even popcorn prepared by a machine and packed in a red paper bucket (vs. by Dan in the kitchen, with real butter) seemed more exciting.
But there was nothing we wanted to see at any of our three local theaters. I finally read the New York Times piece about “Scream VI,” the latest in the iconic mystery/horror/chiller/thriller franchise, and the Wikipedia article about the storyline. I got interested. It also stars Dermot Mulroney (I've loved him since “My Best Friend’s Wedding” with Julia Roberts) and of course, Courteney Cox in her recurring role as reporter Gale Weathers. That was enough for me.
“I think I would even be willing to see the Scream movie,” I added.
“Okay,” Dan said. “It’s playing at eight o’clock.” He has long enjoyed horror films, though we started out our dating life on a softer note, loving “Murder, She Wrote” on Sunday night TV.
Off we went to the big screen, soon with “buttered” popcorn, pretzel bites and bottled water in hand. We tilted our seats back. The only ones left were in the front row, so we could not hide behind other moviegoers if it got too scary. We were vulnerable.
I loved it. I mean, the slashing scenes are gross, some more than others, and I did cringe and look away a few times when the camera showed blood and guts. But there is a lot to love:
Suspense. On the edge of your seat, especially by the end.
Escape. Enter a darkened movie theater and be transported to another place. Always.
Audience. People behind us shrieking and calling out--our collective fear, and joy from the girls behind us (teens or twenties) who loved a romantic kiss.
Courteney. Wow, those ice-blue eyes, that tightly wound character. Also, her wardrobe and some funny lines.
Setting. This time the movie is not in the suburbs but in NYC in a place modeled after the NYU campus. NYC, forever cool and relatable.
Twists and turns. Oh, how the plot turns. Things are not as they appear. I loved that and was still mulling it over two days later. Who did that voice on the phone calls? Still not sure I understand.
Wednesday. Jenna Ortega, the 20-year-old who plays Wednesday in the Netflix Addams Family spinoff, is delightful. Spunky, smart, beautiful, fearless. So is Melissa Barrera,who co-stars as her older sister.
Hayden. Pretty blonde Panettiere was everything. The camera loves her lines, carefully couched and precise. Her character is clear and calculated in the midst of terror.
Wit. The references to other horror movies.
Now I want to start at the beginning in my living room with the original “Scream,” from 1996. Courteney, Neve Campbell and Drew Barrymore star. Coming late to the table, I want to see where the story thread begins.
Do you watch slasher films? I never thought I would join the club.
“Who are you, and what have you done with my wife?” Dan said.
Author and editor back in the day, above, and below, now.
Images from SonyClassics.com.
I love a good documentary, strung together from close-up views, pearls of truth, about real life. And I love that our town is home to Montclair Film*, which runs the nonprofit Clairidge Theater on Bloomfield Avenue. Last night, when Dan was out with our friend Michael at an event, I slipped out to the 6:30 p.m. showing of “Turn Every Page.”
TEP explores the 50-year relationship between New Yorkers Bob Caro (now age 87, celebrated, diligent author of The Power Broker and the fat Lyndon Johnson biography volumes) and his editor, legendary Bob Gottlieb, now 91, who has edited John Cheever, Doris Lessing, Salman Rushdie, Michael Crichton, Toni Morrison, Nora Ephron and other stellar writers. (He was also editor in chief of The New Yorker.) The film is directed by Lizzie Gottlieb, Bob’s daughter, with a warmth, candor and permission to be curious that only a daughter can have with her dad.
I resisted the brownie bites from local Little Daisy Bake Shop and the rich, silken dark chocolate-covered almonds from Sweet Home Montclair at the concession stand, and slipped into my comfortable seat in the renovated theater. To see two geniuses talking about their crafts, immersed in their crafts, to actually see how they work and see their edits on the paper pages. SO GOOD. To learn about their backgrounds--what made them who they are. What shaped them. It is just delicious.
It’s a tribute to the golden days of publishing, and to the old-fashioned, hard-driven craft of writing. (Caro still writes on an electric typewriter.) It is purely brilliant and, like the best documentaries, it peels back the velvet movie-theater curtains to show us what we really crave: true stories.
And then, Sunday morning at the movies! I usually go to my support group or Mass, or sometimes both on a Sunday morning. Today I drove to the former and stayed only 25 minutes and went to the church of the cinema with Dan. We saw the 10:45 a.m. showing of the five Oscar-nominated documentary shorts, and we were blown away. The list included:
“How Do You Measure a Year?” (Dad interviews daughter every year on her birthday, from age 2 to 18.)
“The Elephant Whisperers,” about a couple who rehabilitates orphaned elephants in India. Click now to watch on Netflix. Required viewing.
“Haulout,” about the effects of global warming on walruses in Siberia, by focusing on a marine biologist who works alone in their midst.
“Stranger at the Gate,” about a man who killed many Muslims in the war and then lived in Muncie, Indiana with a shocking plan for the local mosque.
“The Martha Mitchell Effect,” about the blonde firecracker who was married to Nixon’s attorney general, John Mitchell.
I can’t say enough about these. But our favorite was the elephants....so, so good. Breathtaking subjects and breathtaking filming. And after that, it was Martha.
Such fun at the movies.
*Per Wikipedia: Montclair Film is a nonprofit most well known for organizing the annual Montclair Film Festival (MFF) usually held in late April, early May in Montclair, NJ. The festival showcases new works from American and international filmmakers, and has year-round events.
Notable advisory board members include J.J. Abrams, Jonathan Alter, Stephen Colbert, Abigail Disney, Olympia Dukakis, Chiwetal Ejiofor, Emma Freud, Laura Linney, Jon Stewart, Julie Taymor, and Patrick Wilson, among others.
(I have seen Patrick Wilson getting healthy green juices in town and Stephen Colbert at Mass.)
I was so tired Friday evening, after running Skippy around to appointments and obligations (gymnastics, home instructor four days a week for two hours each time, doctor appointment in pouring rain, CVS Rx pickup, soccer practice, orthodontist). Plus my own doctor check-up, which I didn’t relish, since I haven’t been taking such good care of myself. Dan and I share the daily morning and afternoon driving, on top of that.
I know a million parents do a million good things for their children and don’t get exhausted, but I do. I hope that changes as I take better care of me. I thought the Miracle Balm I bought at Jones Road Beauty (Bobbi Brown’s flagship store in Montclair) might energize me, but I was too tired to put it on until this morning.
I had the living room and our one TV to myself both Friday and Saturday night. This was the nursery food I chose:
The Parent Trap from 1961, starring Maureen O’Hara, Brian Keith--and Hayley Mills playing the twins. It came out the year I was born. I loved seeing what was happening in the world and on the big screen, though I know what I saw was WAY above my parents’ level of comfort living. This story involves a beautiful ranch in Monterey with horses, a ranch hand, a mission style home and modern furniture--and, for the other twin, a high-society life in Boston. You see housekeepers, a chauffeur, girls’ sleepaway summer camp. That was not in the cards at 187 Bedford Road in Dumont. I didn’t feel deprived, not really, but seeing this was such fluff and fun. And the fashions, oh, the fashions.
Joanna Barnes as Vicky, the gorgeous gold digger who wants to marry Sharon's and Susan’s handsome Dad--before they intervene. Oh, Barnes plays this role deliciously. Best treasure: In the 1998 "Parent Trap" remake, with Lindsey Lohan, Barnes returns to play the gold digger’s mother.
Sharon and Susan. Or is it Susan and Sharon? Even their parents can’t tell them apart.
Beautiful Maureen O’Hara--the chemistry is good with Brian Keith. My Dad and I loved watching "Miracle on 34th Street" with O’Hara every Christmas season, so I thought of him a lot.
That Touch of Mink, 1962, starring Cary Grant and Doris Day. Omigosh, omigosh. Again with the fashions, the hair, the Automat, the men’s office empire, the trips to Bermuda. The home decor. AND this swinging, wealthy bachelor lets secretary Cathy Timberlake (Doris Day) go to Bergdorf Goodman and pick out whatever she wants, from a sexy black evening gown (in 1962!) to a mink coat. I love that one of the closing credits thanks "Bergdorf Goodman for being Bergdorf Goodman."
Also stars Audrey Meadows (Mrs. Ralph Kramden) as Cathy’s roommate Connie, who works in the Automat. That setting brings on all kinds of funny lunch jokes from behind the little glass doors. I thought of my parents bringing us to the Automat when it was closing (and probably before that).
Cary Grant at his wittiest and most attractive.
Bermuda in all its glory, from a horse-drawn carriage to a private apartment with a view of coral sand beaches . Did I tell you my mother won a trip to Bermuda when I was in fifth grade? She and Dad went. So I thought of them there, too.
The worst thing about watching "Mink" is that it was playing on some odd network and there were SO MANY DARN commercials. Now I see I could have watched it on Amazon Prime?! Honestly, I practically memorized the commercials for an online casino and for a drug that might help prevent HIV. I know the latter is vital but the ads were repeated SO MANY times. So the movie wasn’t really free--I paid with my mind space, infiltrated with those ad messages.
Anyway, those were two great movies. Good night to you. I will be joining The Neon Tea Party Crochet Camp on Zoom at 8:15 p.m. Making a sweater, lots of fun.
I give this six out of 10 popcorn buckets. I give the Cinemark theater at Willowbrook Mall in Wayne--with cushy, heated seats and a big snack array (my family buzzed like bees to honey)--nine big couches. 🛋🛋🛋🛋🛋🛋🛋🛋🛋 I brought my snack and ice water from home.
Even Hallmark is taking a bite of the marshmallow, with this ornament for the Christmas tree. I’m tempted to get it. I just did, on Hallmark.com. It is a Keepsake Ornament, not very big, cuter in real-life size.
Good things about movie:
It is family fare (clean, a rarity compared to some Netflix shows in our house) and we all wanted to see it.
Paul Rudd. I’ve loved him since "Clueless.” He is also People’s “sexiest man alive” this year. Release of magazine in sync with release of movie. Of course.
The message that science is cool, especially for girls.
Carrie Coon, leading lady. I didn’t recognize her, but she has had important roles, including playing Nick’s twin sister, Margot "Go" Dunne, in “Gone Girl” (2014).
The now ancient car, supercool gadgets--and most of all, an army of Mini Stay-Puft Marshmallow Men frolicking in a Walmart, playing with the blenders, etc.
EXCELLENT cameos from original "Ghostbusters."
Funny kid/mom interactions. A child telling mom her strength is that “She is good at making enchiladas.” The story proves otherwise.
Big laughs last night with Dan, Skip and Figgy--before Fig winged ✈️ back to Florida on 7:30 a.m. flight from JFK. But lest it look too much like a Hallmark moment, let it be said that Skippy was looking at her darn iPhone the whole time, Fig told us later. (Skip was on one end of four seats and I was on the other.) So much for fully engaging as a family, even at the movies. Still, it definitely counts for something.
Gnite.
Image above (1984 blockbuster movie) from here. I would like to rewatch it now, and also to see the 2016 movie with the all-women team (Melissa McCarthy, Kristen Wiig, Leslie Jones). Did you see that one? How was it?
Top photo from 2014 Film Festival, Montclair resident and MFF founding member Stephen Colbert with Steve Carell. Photo credit by Neil Grabowsky/Montclair Film Festival.
So thankful for our neighbor Beth, who posted in our groups (Yahoo and FB) that she overbooked and had two extra tix for last night’s Montclair Film Festival movie. Yes! We quickly Venmoed and Beth put them in the old silvery milkbox on our stoop.
Dan and I love going to movies but by the time he checked, all of the films for this 10th anniversary edition of the MFF were sold out.
Yay, to be back at the refurbished Clairidge Cinema on Bloomfield Avenue. It felt a little weary pre-pandemic but I’ve missed it so during Covid. It looks 100 times better with new seats, carpeting, signage, a lounge. And, although I do not choose to partake, I was pleased to see one of the MFF’s sponsors, Little Daisy Bake Shop (“The Official Bakery” of the festival) represented at the refreshment counter. Yes, there they were--thick, fancy marshmallow crispy treats and large chocolate chunk cookies.
Yay to see a movie not from the living room couch or the bedroom....this was a good, gripping one, with subtitles. Here is the link. It was supernatural and Swedish. The child actors were gifted. The woman who played Anna’s mother was beautiful--in that Scandinavian way, and wearing earth tones and natural fibers.
Yay for Skippy going to Party City with her BFF’s Dad....then the girls coming back here, where our Elaine was holding down the fort with three pets, dishes, laundry. (We have Sis’s Buttercup, plus Sugar and Nina.)
Yay for Elaine not being booked with another family last night, and for her driving the girls to V’s for sleepover.
Yay, breathing space, and back at the movies, Dan to my right with his giant popcorn instead of dinner....I got a very good latte to bring in at the new French bakery right by the theater. I wore a dress, as I like to, and lipstick (well, you could not see my GOOP lip balm behind the required masks for length of movie).
Yay for rain outside and light and warmth and peace inside and knowing Figgy was happy with her friends in Florida, going to a Halloween party. (She said it was Covid-safe.) She seems to be thriving down there among three great housemates, good graduate classmates, Florida bugs, slugs and plants.
Dan suggested Doris Day in “The Glass Bottom Boat” but we agreed from watching the trailer that it just looked too goofy, even for retro/kitsch lovers like us.
So he put on “Pillow Talk” from 1959 (Amazon Prime Video). I had seen part of the movie once, years ago. This choice was a gift to me from my husband, and I was grateful.
We had done some evening gardening--untangling pervasive vines from the lilacs and lilies--so this was relaxing. Dan soon pulled out the New York Times crossword and a pen while I studied the set and hairstyle changes....
So much to love in this rom-com:
Jan’s (Doris Day’s) suits with pencil skirts and fitted jackets, strapless evening dresses, fur stoles, necklaces and hats. WOW. And the sherbet colors, plus blacks, plus occasional feathers in the hats.
Brad’s (Rock Hudson’s) bachelor pad/girl trap with spiral staircase, built-in fireplace and switches that release a sofa bed; turn off the lights; lower a needle to play a record; and lock the door (that last one is questionable now).
The very idea that they share a party line on the telephone. Remember those?
The colors in Jan’s apartment and wardrobe....pink countertop and wall, sunny yellow robe.
New York City!!!! Checkered yellow cabs, fancy night life, a beautiful Black female jazz singer in “The Hidden Door” club and flash-through of date places: Statue of Liberty, Circle Line boat ride, etc.
View of Central Park at night, from a hotel window.
Very clever, twisty plot. Excellent writing.
Tony Randall as Brad’s best friend from college and Thelma Ritter as the maid (she was great in “Miracle on 34th Street” and “Rear Window”).
The country house in Connecticut, again with a supercool fireplace.
Jan’s bio as a high-profile interior decorator who grew up in Milwaukee.
Highly recommend. Fireworks, balloon bouquets, stardust, rose petals, confetti and ticker tape for director Lee Daniels and stars Andra Day and Trevante Rhodes.
Starting with odds stacked against her....her mother was 13/her dad 15. As a girl, she ran errands for women in a brothel...scrubbed floors...sexual abuse....in the face of all that, Miss Billie Holiday used her beautiful voice, rhythm and style to captivate the world. The horrors she faced with narc agents going after her....please see NY Times obit link below. Very sad.
Her song, “Strange Fruit,” about a lynching she witnessed. So raw. Again, how remarkably strong Miss Holiday was, how remarkably strong with expressing her art (when it wasn’t squashed). Pain and grace in the face of unspeakable, unthinkable tragedy.
Rated R, one of most disturbing/vivid views I’ve ever seen of drug use/addiction, though I have not seen a lot. Some explicit sex/nudity. Incredible fashion, exceptional flowers in her hair, very handsome Rhodes.
She loved her dogs, and held onto her connection to Catholicism.
I’ve been wanting to watch Anthony Hopkins in "The Father," especially since he’s up for a best actor nomination this Sunday at the Oscars.
But our Xfinity bill was a bit late. Dan paid it down to a zero $ balance over the phone last night, and that usually has our system up and running within minutes.
But when I try to rent the movie (it still costs $19.99, on top of our regular bill), it still says contact Xfinity billing.
So now I went on line to xfinity.com and clicked "system refresh." It’s in progress right now. I hope I can see the movie tonight. My movie partner, Dan, has an article deadline.
But I’ve wanted to see Mr. Hopkins ever since hearing an interview with him months ago on NPR.
Good night.
TCOY
Taking care of others in the world feels good. I donated platelets today at the donor center in Paramus. They need more donors, for both blood and platelets.
Talked to Mrs. C. on the phone.
Talked to Skipper about expectations around her return to our home & life this Sunday.
Talked to her Mimi, ditto. (We support each other.)
Iced coffee.
Nice salad with spanakopita.
Zoom call to catch up with friends Grace and Candy.
Oh, this empty nest feeling is so very, very different and peaceful, even if it might be/could be/likely will be? temporary.
Instead of wrangling someone to put down her cell phone and get into bed, we can do whatever we want.
It got to the point here where everything was a battle.
Tonight, my choice: A Beatles movie. I don’t think I’ve ever seen one.
Possible picks:
A Hard Day’s Night, 1964.
Help!, 1965.
Magical Mystery Tour, 1967.
Yellow Submarine, 1968.
Today I wrote hard; attended a NextTribe (for women 45 and over) Zoom event with Cathie Black and other power authors about gendered ageism/power moms/re-entering the workforce; enjoyed Chinese dinner delivery with Dan; watched some episodes of "The Doris Day Show" on TV 1968 to 1973.
I chose “Ace Ventura: Pet Detective,” the madcap 1994 movie starring Jim Carrey and Courteney Cox.
Dan and I laughed out loud. Carrey’s physical comedy is a gift.
We also cleaned for an hour and a half today--counting both of us, that’s three hours. I organized the sheets and towels, threw out the ones bleached by daughters’ hair dying in the bathroom....filled bags to bring to Goodwill store this Friday. I’ve been gathering a lot of things, and it feels good.
Update: Yesterday I ordered the Virginia Bluebell tubers? (on sale) from the Tennessee nursery. Can’t wait to plant, but hope they work here in NJ.
The best thing about today so far--and it's already 3:32 p.m.--is that I repotted the tall daffodils I bought last night at Whole Foods. They look so good in the handsome pot my family gave me for Mother’s Day last year (from Moss & More, it arrived full of purple flowering plants).
And the daffs were on sale for $5 (for the large bulbs in large container) and another 10 percent off with Amazon Prime.
Above: Beautiful (small) Kew Pottery pot. I didn’t see this cool (my favorite) color at the time I bought it in orange (reminds me of a Tory Burch orange). I have a pink African violet in mine. Here is the link on Moss & More site:PRETTY POT.
(Botanical Collections is the exclusive authorized American wholesaler of fine, handcrafted Kew pottery and Kew pots from London’s Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew adorned with their official seal.
I’m hoping to take a relaxing bath soon and do some errands in town.
P.S. Did take a bath with salts and it was so relaxing and rejuvenating. Last night, Dan and I, who are on a Hitchcock kick, watched “Family Plot,” the director’s 1976 movie at Sofa Cinema. We enjoyed it.
I was tired and forgot to post even four words here last night.
Before joining my Saturday morning support group, a sofa report.
We rented "The Ghost and Mrs. Muir," from 1947, starring Gene Tierney and a dark, brooding, sexy Rex Harrison. On the sea in England, early 1900s.
When I was in Vesta Chocolate last month, one of Julia’s loyal customers told me I had to see this, since she loves the sea coast and is eager to visit Maine. (We were talking about Maine, that’s how we arrived there. The Hope Lange TV series--inspired by the movie--was set in Maine.)
Skip arrived back for the weekend, was up in Fig’s old attic room/Dan’s new office trying on Fig wig and long white gown. The living room was a good place, with Buttercup and Sugar.
I was too tired to watch the whole thing but gee, handsome, biting, amusing sea captain and beautiful young widow...and Natalie Wood as the little girl. (Update: Dan told me Saturday morning that the ending was great, so we both watched it from my stopping point to the end. It WAS great.)
I just spent $3.99 on Xfinity to rent “The Children’s Hour,” the black & white classic from 1961.
It stars beautiful young starlets Audrey Hepburn and Shirley MacLane (as Karen Wright and Martha Dobie, teachers running the Wright-Dobie School, a girls’ boarding school in a refurbished farmhouse) and James Garner as Karen’s doctor boyfriend. It’s based on the play by Lillian Hellman and she adapted it for the screen.
I have read the play and have watched the movie a couple of times.
A. I love Audrey Hepburn--her style, poise, grace, precision--and her bangs.
B. I love movies set in the 1960s.
C. It is about the way a child can twist the truth, and hurt adults in the process. (I am no stranger to that, let’s say.)
It’s not light popcorn fare.
But I love this movie anyway.
Fair warning: The play was written in 1934 (87 years ago) and its premise is archaic.
Just finished a bowl of raspberries and blueberries with a scattering of walnuts and a pour of organic cream, and enjoyed it.
Remember getting a pastry (or grilled corn muffin, or bagel) and coffee in a paper cup from a cart or deli on the way to work? Photo from here.
We took it all for granted. Hopping the bus, meeting for lunch, stopping at the New York Public Library, where the lions greet you outside as you climb up the stairs.
Working hard, living happy.
Museums, skyscrapers, churches big and small. Broadway, Starbucks, pizza places on every corner, the doughy, saucy scent wafting into the air.
Lattes, flower stands, women and men in fashionable clothing. Pretzel carts with yellow and blue Sabrett hot dog umbrellas. Fruit wagons, the ballet, Post Offices, bars, fast-food places. Swiping a MetroCard, leaning into the turnstile. Hard faces, soft faces but most of all, when push comes to shove, underneath it all, friendly faces.
Overhearing conversations, because you cannot help it--people talking on cell phones on their way to the Port Authority or Grand Central Station. I was once behind a young dad, on his way home to New Jersey, checking in with his child. I used to call home a lot on those walks back to the Port, too.
Tonight I watched “Breakfast at Tiffany’s,” released in 1961, based on the novella by Truman Capote.
It made me long for so much of my city:
Central Park.
High fashion.
Taxicabs.
Young dreams.
Colorful parties.
Newspapers.
Venerable, old New York Public Library.
Fire escapes (though I do see some here in Montclair).
Colors on trend.
Hustle and bustle.
Tiffany & Co.
Its unique spinning base--to hold you as you find your way, and your love, and your friends, and your gifts, in the smartest, brightest metropolis.
Personal interactions--with cabdrivers, grocers, storeowners.
Fountains.
Handbags.
Fancy stores.
Landmarks.
Famous hotels where people meet for drinks.
Tall, narrow, metal mailboxes that open with small keys--like the one Sis had for years in the vestibule of an apartment building on East 82nd Street.
The place where I used to get a pedicure, in some upscale salon on Fifth Avenue, where they played this movie on a constant loop.
By the time we can all fully immerse in our beloved city again, things will be different. The things we knew and loved, or just knew, will be gone. Will subway fares be electronic--no more cards? We will wear masks at the majestic library, the Metropolitan Opera. Will we still want hot dogs from a rolling street cart? They were the best hot dogs in the world, nestled in soft buns with mustard and sauerkraut.
Punch went to visit Mimi this weekend. No school tomorrow for MLK Day. I will be leaving here about 2 p.m. to meet them and get Punch back. Dan made a healthy Sunday dinner tonight for the two of us, just like we used to have in my apartment in Ocean Grove. Broiled salmon, mashed potatoes, salad. It was nice. Peaceful and nice. We crave this peace.
A tough 10 a.m. therapy appt for Punchy in our home (yes, despite Black Friday turkey coma) led to some key lessons and messages for me and Dan. I heard a truth after the cruelty (from her), the shouting (from me), the peace and levelheadedness (from Dan) and the hard-won insights (from Miss Des). I can only hope the same will be true for Punch. But actually, as we all know, I can only speak for myself.
Reflected and wrote an important email.
Took a nice hot bath--Punch went to visit Mimi + Poppy til Sunday.
Dan and I filled large dinner plates with precious Thanksgiving leftovers from our backyard meal for four: turkey (me); salmon (him); stuffing; creamed onions w a shake of smoky paprika; mashed turnips; buttermilk mashed potatoes with chives; green beans; cranberry sauce; and Punchy’s special sweet potato/pumpkin pudding bake topped with mini marshmallows (Dan). She made two, one vegan for Figgy. The marshmallows on both were vegan DANDIES (no gelatin), part of my Whole Foods order. For dessert: berries and a pour of cream for Dan; yogurt w pumpkin purée, cinnamon, ginger and cacao nibs for me.
We watched "The Farewell," starring Awkwafina. It was good (but be prepared, it’s in Chinese, so subtitles). The soundtrack, especially at the end, is a rich dessert soufflé, rising to a lofty height. I’m downloading those songs for my Spotify playlist tomorrow.
I admire the writing of Jon Gluck, who has written evocatively about fly-fishing (and the nature around it, one of my favorite topics) for The New York Times and other publications. My own husband, Dan, writes for the Times--as a freelancer--but generally about health, science or social reform.
So Dan and I write about different things and I don't send pitches to his assigning editors. I also never liked the idea of riding on his coattails.
I've written for the Times, but back in the nineties, when I was assigned two short "At the Nation's Table" (regional restaurant) pieces. Great fun--one was about The Cranberry Tiger ice cream shop in Belfast, Maine--it closed its doors since, sadly--and the other about the biscuit-loving Loveless Cafe in Nashville, where I traveled with Dan on a business trip. I also placed two "Metropolitan Diary" vignettes, like the one above. I would love to write for the paper again, and have been emailing ideas to an editor. No luck yet.
I saw through the Instagram feed of Jon's wife, the lovely Didi, who is my editor at The Plum, that his work also appears on Medium. He has a big role there, too.
So I have been trying my hand at the publishing platform after Jon and I had a phone chat.
You can track your earnings closely, and although I have hundreds of views, that pales in the face of thousands of views. I think I have earned 32 cents since I started last week, no joke. I think earnings pivot partly on the number of claps you get (the applause icon at the bottom of the piece) and more importantly, on how long readers spend, on average, reading your piece. It's an intriguing business model, with no advertising. Medium subscribers (including me, who subscribed after reading Jon Gluck's work there), pay $5 monthly or $50 annually.
A colleague, a successful magazine editor and book author, said she has made about $100 monthly on Medium. (You provide your bank account numbers for direct deposits, and also submit a W9 tax form.)
All this to say that the link above is to my latest Medium post. Thanks for reading.
Good night.
TCOY
Slept late! It was Dan's turn to rise at 6:40 for Punchy's schoolday. Yay.
Talked to Sis, saw Moey when she stopped by to have dinner out with Figgy for their August birthdays.
I'm Alice. I've been writing since girlhood in Dumont--first, in a little green 5-year diary Lorraine gave me for Christmas in 6th grade, then for newspapers, magazines, websites and companies. I've blogged, often daily, since Feb. 2010, trying to write truthfully even when it's scary. Our daughter (blog name Figgy) is an artist and scientist in cyanobacteria algae research. Punch (or Skip), the girl we have raised for most of her life as legal guardians but love as our own, is in high school. Our days are sunny, sad, successful or even nightmarish. Reach me at alicehurley@aol.com.
Posts
