Damn, She’s in Distress
The year before I graduated high school, Betty Friedan stormed The Oak Room, that male bastion of a bar at New York City’s Plaza Hotel. I’d walked past that mysterious room, inhaling the cigarette and cigar smoke that wafted through its doors when I went to dinner with my parents at Trader Vic’s (also in The Plaza). At the time, I had no idea that Friedan was wearing what became her trademark sunglasses that day because her husband had given her yet another beating – something he did with regularity and typically on the heels of her being in the spotlight of the media. I knew nothing...
Read MoreGreen Ties and Red Cats
Today is St. Patrick’s Day and on every St. Patrick’s Day for as long as I can remember, my husband has worn a green tie. Typically, he wears a rather bold Kelly green tie, but this morning he wore one more of the pastel variety – and I noticed. “That’s not the tie you usually wear,” I said. “But it’s still green,” he answered. And then he placed his pen in his pocket, tidied up his briefcase and went to see the patient admitted to the emergency room (they called at 5:30 a.m. to alert my husband that he had arrived) whose St. Patrick’s Day will be spent quite differently...
Read MoreI Got Shoes Older Than You
I planned the whole day yesterday around a class called Bosu Body. Figured I would try something new and different. I’ve used a Bosu before. It’s like a half ball on a platform. A little tricky and challenging, it forces you to balance. Not as easy as it looks to even simply stand on it. Anyway, I cleaned the apartment, wrote, coached, went to the grocer, cooked dinner, walked our dog Walter – and at 6 p.m., tossed my new Vibram Five Fingers shoes and a bottle of water into my gym bag and was off. Five Fingers look like canvas socks – each toe having its own special place on a...
Read MoreGoing Out in Style
I knew it was not a good thing to do – to read a blog that someone wrote about my mother’s funeral. But I did. And pretty much right before I went to bed last night which was another bad idea. I was forewarned: The blog mentioned that my mother had been buried in a Chanel suit and, although it was amusing and cheeky, it might upset me. And it did. I felt both sad and angry because it was about my mother, and I suppose, also about me since I was the one who dressed my mother and planned her funeral. Maybe, if the blog wasn’t about my mother’s funeral, I might have chuckled, though...
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