I'm Bound to Thank You for It...

Thanksgiving is by far my very most favorite holiday in the history of the world...I am sorry, Christmas lovers...Jesus' birth is momentous and all...you know, I love getting lots of clothes and shoes and jewels and books all wrapped up in His honor, not to mention all the fun and festivity. And His death was even more momentous, for sure...you know, Jesus, was a central figure in my growth and education and the communities in which I have come of age...and I mean, who doesn't love celebrating His torture and execution and eventual resurrection with a few extra drinks at a scuzzy dive bar on Holy Thursday? Guilty! But let's not kid ourselves...Thanksgiving is heads and shoulders above all the rest...four full days dedicated to gluttony -- my favorite of the seven deadly sins as a matter of fact (anyone care to guess my second favorite....?). Thanksgiving gives us all those delicious seasonal foods and endless varieties of pies and appetizers, all greasy and fat-laden...and let's not forget the bottles and bottles and bottles of booze... And the celebration of slothfulness doesn't end at dinner...there are the hours on end of hanging on the couch, picking up your weary bod only to do some Christmas shopping online or to make one of those turkey, stuffing, cranberry sauce, gravy sandwiches before you fall asleep again. Oh, ok...there may be some football watching and golf playing of coffee-breaking if you are feeling antsy...but that is IT. And that is why Thanksgiving is so unimaginably awesome.

Ok...ok, I admit that there is another part of this holiday that I look forward to every year...I can be sappy and emotional too, I think you all know that....so an annual reminder of how very blessed I am is an amazing and welcome gift. And to know that I should thank god everyday for giving me a beautiful family...healthy, spry parents and growing, active children...a lovely home and an endless selection of terrific neighbors in a warm, safe, happy community. And then, on top of all that, here I stand with friends in every corner of my life whom I love and adore so deeply, regardless of where we are, how much time passes, or what might occur between us...you know that I could not live

without you.

Of course I know that we are all thankful for family and friends and home and happiness this time of year....but as I was writing all this down and in thinking about the fun and excitement of this upcoming holiday season, my perfect middle child and my jealous and possessive youngest were both completing the obligatory lower elementary grade Thanksgiving assignment of collecting items they might be inclined to bring along should they be a passenger on The Mayflower....and while they stood gaping at me as I suggested they grab a bottle of water and some peanut butter and a good book and an extra blanket, I began wondering what else, aside from water and air and sustenance and shelter, I could absolutely not live without... You know, comforts, non-essentials...because aren't those things also worthy of being cherished this time of year? Aren't those the the things that make our lives with our families and friends and in our homes all the more beautiful and livable...damn straight, they are! So...this year I give a special thanks to and for the following essential non-essentials...hey, and don't judge just because they

all have to do with food, clothes or entertainment (shocker, right?)...I'll save the depth and feeling for the "essential essentials" post... Ok, here goes:

Personal grooming services -- It is no secret, even with my absolute love of food and eating and cooking, that I would rather starve than allow my hair and skin upkeep to languish....my fingernails to be unpolished...my teeny tootsies to become unbuffed and calloused. To me, weekly grooming is second only to showering and hair washing when it comes to looking and feeling refreshed and alive and ready to face the world, not to mention able to drop everything and hit a dinner party or cocktail hour. I have found that my desire for glossiness has become synonymous with cleanliness in my mind...and nothing bums me out more than looking down and seeing a dull, chipped manicure or pedicure. So I don't know if these little treatments are even a luxury to me anymore...in fact, I believe this beauty and grooming schedule is more likely an addiction...maybe even my own little secret adrenaline high...a little oxytocin via OPI polish. So ok, maybe I am a salon junkie...and it is quite likely that I would beg, borrow, steal...bring my family to ruination and damnation before I would forgo my quite large monthly salon bill...but at least I will be the smoothest and shiniest trick on the soup lines this winter....

Iced venti non-fat latte -- Starbucks, D&D's or the local Greek diner...it's what's forbreakfast.

CoverGirl Wet Slicks Lip Gloss -- a bona fide pick me up all packaged in a little tube with a wand, and available in a rainbow of colors. When it comes to lip gloss, there is nothing better than a well-priced, mass market goodie like WetSlicks...

Tivo -- by far the greatest invention of all time for those of us who are stubborn, self-important pop culture fanatics...yes, we want to indulge in as much mindless programming as possible, but dammit, we want to do it on our own time. Just this past Sunday morning I woke 90 minutes before my alarm...and what did I do? Not laundry...didn't go to church...hit the gym? please! Instead I caught up on this week's episodes of The Soup and Diners, Drive-Ins & Dives (Triple D!) and The Real World/Road Rules Challenge: The Ruins...(what about boozy, big talking Brad trying to take on brick sh*thouse Darrell...what in holy hell was that utter f**kery??? Loved his juicy, bulbous black eye after the fact though...wait, I am the only one over 22 who watches this sh*t, aren't I?). And you know, even though Tivo and I spend more time together than I'd like to admit, a nice, unexpected side effect is that my social life has expanded exponentially now that I can skip out on Thursday nights without worrying about missing Project Runway or Survivor or, god forbid The First 48...I can't let a week pass without my fill of Tim Gunn, hidden immunity idols, or human suffering and gore via the Memphis PD. Thanks, Tivo!

The J. Crew "Jackie" cardigan -- fitted lightweight cotton, I have 7 of these little wardrobe essentials in a variety of colors...black and navy getting the biggest workout of the bunch though you have certainly seen the green as well... I top almost every outfit with one of these...a sartorial lifesaver of sorts...

The Farmer's Market -- I love to cook...and I love food...and I love fresh ingredients....and farm markets just do it for me. I don't know, those baskets overflowing with red tomatoes and green peppers and orange squash and purple eggplant and an endless selection of fresh herbs and...well, it's like live food porn...a foodie peep show, if you will. We are lucky to have one of the few working farms in the state right here in Wyckoff...and at any given moment (except Sundays, welcome to Bergen County...) we can just run right over to Abma's and check out the daily stock and create menus around their home-grown produce, farmed chickens and pigs. I am there almost every single day, planning our family dinners as I go...I could not live without that experience...so mark my words, if and when Abma's leaves town, so too will I...

Bravo's "Reality" and "Reality Competition" programming -- Bravo's entire

line-up completely sucks me in for many reasons, but mainly because it seems less smarmy and vomit-inducing as, say, E! does with their lock on the insipid celebutante (Keeping Up with the Kardashians...) and cracked out Vegas stripper (Rock of Love Bus...) market. Truly, I could go on forever about Flipping Out!, Real Housewives...you name it...but my first loves are Top Chef and past seasons of Project Runway, those addictive professional competitions filled with great works of culinary art and fashion design created under extraordinary circumstances week after week...and it's like I am being educated via "reality"...introduced to new terms and techniques and products and concepts as I loaf and snuggle with my snugglebunnies...and so, you know, I don't feel so loafy and lame. In fact, now after watching every season of both shows, I have convinced myself that I am fully qualified to be a professional fashion or food critic ("The components of that dish just weren't cohesive..." or "That garment was so poorly constructed..."). A degree by Bravo...if only they had offered that at Stonehill I would have graduated summa cum laude for sure...

My glass "fish" earrings from The Island Shop in Bermuda -- I am a Pisces...I am drawn to "fish" and coastal themed items, always have been...and on a visit to The Island Shop in Hamilton, Bermuda a few years back, I walked right over to the display counter with the multi-colored hand-made glass beaded jewelry, saw the fish earrings dangling there, calling to me...so, I made them mine....and we've been a happy couple ever since.

Cupcakes -- hand-held heaven, stacked high with buttercream... I cannot be the only one who is immediately transported to my 6th birthday party when I catch sight of a tray of cupcakes. I don't care if they are the classic Duncan Hines variety with the pre-fab icing or one of those pillowy concoctions from Magnolia Bakery with their pastel candy toppings...my mood is lightened with one bite...

Girls' Nights/Weekends -- Really, after over a year of covering in this very blog why I love time with my girlfriends so very much, do I need to elaborate?...I don't think so either...

The "Cheese Plate" -- If there was one food on which I had to agree to subsist for the remainder of my time on earth, I would have no problem choosing...not a moment's hesitation. It would be, of course, cheese. And you know me well enough to know that I don't mean any old Kraft singles or Laughing Cow cr*p...I am talking artisanal offerings and farmstead products made with the milk of grass-fed sheep and goats and cows. I never pass up the cheese course on a menu...I never pass the cheese counter or walk by the cheese shop...I linger all afternoon at tastings. I could not even begin to name my favorites, because each visit to the cheese shop brings me a new one to love (though I suggest La Tur and Germain Langres for your holiday table...). I could be bribed into just about anything with a great cheese. Add a crusty baguette and a great bottle of Cabernet and I am yours for good...as simple as that...

But you know, my friends, even as I look back and am thankful for these many comforts, it is clear to me that without all of you to experience these delights with, they would certainly lose their luster. You know, manicures are much more fun with chit chat on the side...and a latte is always more tasty when enjoyed socially...and what good is a new lip gloss without being able to share a juicy kiss on top of it...and all the Tivo-ing of BravoTV shows and fondling of farm

market food porn could never excite me more than the snuggling with the snugglebunnies...and who needs a cute sweater or pretty earrings without a room full of

besties to tell you how

great you look in them....and there is nothing on earth better than that cheese plate and crusty baguette and delicious wine when they are, in fact, shared by (at least) two...

So...it really is all of you that I cannot live without...and I am beyond thankful to have you...

With all my love this Thanksgiving...Suz

Photos:

1. My perfect middle child one Thanksgiving past making an attempt to drop his vegetarianism by snagging the last drumstick...it didn't stick...but notice his placemat says he is thankful for Mommy & Daddy...told you he was perfect...

2. My three perfect little darlings, snugglebunnies and greatest blessings of all, bar none...

3. Having my "smoky eyes" applied (professionally) under the watchful eye of Patrick's portrait...in his mother's dining room...

4. That iced latte looks so luscious and satisfying...I am dying to lick the screen...

5. (left to right) Colleen, Pina, Mary and me...looking bright and shiny and pulled together in my bright green "Jackie" cardigan...

6. My future colleagues at the Top Chef judges table...I belong right there between Tom and Padma, no?

7. This shot has it all....a tray of cupcakes in hand, glass fish earrings dangling, a little Wetslicks glistening on my lips and great lighting...I am making this my next passport shot too...

8. The cheese plate I happily scarfed a mere 36 hours before my tornado ride through Connecticut...thankfully not my last one (not by a long shot...)

9. & 10. An selection of my regular cronies, looking hot as always...all of you make the day-to-day and these essential non-essentials all the more enjoyable...so Thank You!!!

Girls On Film!

So on Friday night we had Sam's all-girls housewarming/cocktail party/quasi late night non-bridal shower -- oh yes...we had Sam as "non-bride" with her table full of gifts...Gwen as "maid of honor" presenting the gifts one at a time...Betsy was the "gift list"-making bridesmaid, Suse the "bow bra"-making bridesmaid and sistergirlfriend, Lisa was the "repacking and stacking" bridesmaid...I on the other hand was that jaded, wisecracking aunt on her third Tanqueray & Tonic, demanding Sam hold the gifts up so I could see better... And this all took place in her lovely new home on its narrow, winding street lined with the shady trees and pretty houses with white picket fences and window boxes filled with hydrangea in the spring and mini-pumpkins in the fall, all leading up to a cul-de-sac where the kids can play. So...it took me no less than 10 minutes inside during the pre-party "set up" (aka pre-party cocktailing) with our hostess and Gwen, to declare Sam's home of independence our new de facto clubhouse, crashpad and headquarters. Starting right about.....now. Hope that's cool by you, Sam!

So you have heard it all before...we ladies gathering, shutting the men out so that we can sip wine and pound various vodka drinks while we inhale baked brie with carmelized apples in puff pastry and little phyllo cups filled with creamy goodness and gooey hot artichoke dip and then late night mixing the contents of the M&M bowl with that of the salted mixed nuts bowl and going to town on the salty-sweet combo... Andthere is the gabbing and story sharing and joke making and the outfit complimenting (this party had an inordinate amount of like-dressers...Betsy and I in matching blouses, hers pink, mine ivory...Mary's sequined top almost exactly like Vicky's...and the Beard Sisters might as well have been the Beard Twins in their identical jeans and black tops....) and of course we touched on the mom issues...topic of the night: the right tactic to employ and how much info to share when telling your 4th grader what "It" is....You know...what is the purpose of "It"....how "It" works...what do you wear during "It"....why do people even want to do "It"....and my favorite, asked by ADP's little angel...does "It" work everytime....!!! Love that! To which the answer was a resounding: "NO!"

So even though my friends and I have enjoyed many a night like so, I always want you, by default, to enjoy them with us...and as such, I always make it my mission to mark these happenings by photographing the night from beginning to end...an invaluable illustration...I mean, how would you have enjoyed Wendy's party quite as much without the shots of Gwen and I at the porto-potty...and what about the Jughead posse toasting with those Coronas at the 12th Street Ale House...and there was the sheepish Gourmet/Wh*re-met gang and the adult toy party...and me and Ellie rocking out to the poppy craptastic tunes at her first JoBros concert this summer...and who would possibly have believed the havoc of the tornado drive through Connecticut without those post-apocolyptic shots? Yeah...the photos are a must.

That said...it has been well over a year now that I am writing this way...and well over a year now that I have been receiving complaints from my BFFs as to the photos I have chosen to display. And though most of you get a giggle out of being featured, no longer are my closest friends and neighbors quite so naive as to simply pose away and allow me to document every move they might make and the odd moments during which they are found chit chatting merrily with a sworn enemy...or surreptitiously whispering some juicy tale...or laying together on a giant queen-sized bed...or boozing so heftily that entire generations of their families are hungover in the days following. So...it is comical to see the reaction I get when I pull out that little aquamarine digital point and shoot...you know, they are making a big deal of hiding their faces and rolling their eyes and complaining that I only post pictures in which I look good....Hello??? I am writing this thing, am I not? I am no fool...but, make no mistake, I have also learned the hard way...I have had to teach myself the proper positioning of a good "self-portrait" (I am now a certified pro in that art form...) and how to navigate the "group pose" to have even a 50% shot and grabbing a good angle on film...and even with all that experience, I still end up looking like a sea hag or a tranny Madonna or a uni-bust or two ton tank at times. But those moments are not quite so often anymore....

So this past Friday at Sam's, I took a little time out from cocktailing and gabbing to advise a group of my girlfriends on the proper technique and execution of my signature "Turn, Twist, Tilt & Prop" pose made "famous" (infamous??) by this blog (apparently). And you know, this all started with some"good natured" ribbing (or shall we say relentless abuse...)...lots of giggling each time I took a photo and my friends making a big deal of trying to achieve that magic combination, but inevitably leaving out the "turn" or the "tilt"...and almost always the "prop." And every one of those girls, all abuse and ribbing on the outside, was taking mental notes on the process...so now we all have it down...now we will all look extra delish each week right here.

You know, I guess I never realized the look made much of an impact...though back a few months when one of my very besties told me that for a few seconds he thought it was, in fact, me who was the Craigslist Killer's girlfriend because the ubiquitous engagement photo splashed across the tabloids featured said girlfriend all twisted and tilted with a healthy dose of Suz style. I should have known right then that this was no longer my secret positioning strategy, but an identifiable stance. And then fast forward to the selection of mocking photos I found on my memory card after ROBtoberfest featuring Joe and Mike and Tim and Jimmy attempting to mimic. And though I would hardly categorize the "TTT&P" as one might the "Bend & Snap" guy-getting maneuver made popular by Reese Witherspoon as Elle Woods, I guess it is equally inane and vain and silly...but damn, b*tches...it works!

But then Rob pointed out that there are an entire year's worth of photos of me in which I look almost identical, which he felt, wasn't exactly normal...oh my g*d...maybe he had a point...Christmas: TTT&P; Holy Thursday: TTT&P; kid's birthdays: TTT&P; vacation in Bermuda: TTT&P; post-tornado drive through Connecticut: TTT&P.....(sounds a little like "D*** in a Box"...). There are little variations in the smile and wardrobe and and hairstyle, you know...but almost no photos exist in which I am not fully aware that the shot may one day, very likely, end up being displayed right here for everyone and their brother and sister and best friend from high school to read and forward...which is the part about writing that I love most...the sharing...so don't get me wrong. But the truth is that I have many faces...you know, not like a two-face or anything...more like many different sides. And I guess I show those other "girls" to all of you in this forum figuratively...and I expose my thoughts and beliefs and points of view and emotions with a raw truth and unabashed clarity...I would say that about myself. So maybe the photos don't always communicate what's deep inside.

But damn...I am not sure you'd visit this blog ever again if the photos captured the real flavor of what was running through my brain at any given time...no, no...much too risky... And this is supposed to be fun and light and breezy and easy, right? So...let it be as such...and let me tell you all about Sam's party and how much fun I had "self-portrait-ing" and "TTT&P-ing" and just enjoying the night with my best girls....

...or maybe I will just let the pictures speak for themselves...

Bring on the abuse....

xoxo....

Photos:

1. An exhausted "non-brode" surveys the spoils....

2. Me, Suse, Betsy and Ellen...Bets and I showing off our fancy ruffled matching J. Crew tops...oh, and get used to that look on me....holiday party season is upon us!

3. Vicky and Mary....a vision in sparkles...

4. ADP demos how "It" gets started...all over Suse's cheek...while I "self-portrait" the whole thing....

5. Here I catch Mary and Kath in a private moment (well, maybe not so much....) on Sam's cushy, comfy bed...

6. Another "self-portrait"...Amber with an excellent attempt at the "TTT&P"...she's getting there....

7. Kathy, Amber and Sam finding themselves quite hilarious in a "TTT&P" mocking session...no respect for my hard work...

8. Mary, sistergirlfriend, Lisa and me...notice my well-"propped" 'do in this shot, another "self-portrait"...truly professional...

9. Me and Trish enjoy the night...and my spontaneous "TTT&P/self-portraiting" abilities....

10 & 11. Me and my sweet little darlings this past year...me sporting the sweet little old Mommy-version of "TTT&P"....

12. (left to right) Latzy, Amber, Sam, Mary and sistergirlfriend, Lisa, aka The Jazz Hands Posse, trying to create their own signature pose...kinda lame...

13. Amber, me and Sam....a final "self-portrait" with some of my very besties...

If It Was Warm, She Wouldn't Wear Much More...

Yesterday afternoon I skipped out of the office for a stroll along the

Avenue of the Americas...you know, grab a little midday iced venti non-fat latte, catch up on some chit chat with Suse, kill time... So, I crossed the Avenue at 46th Street and this guy...a seemingly somewhat non-threatening guy, he didn't seem homeless or like a crackhead or anything... though, I mean, I wouldn't invite him out for drinks or to come meet my Mommy for lunch or anything... so, this guy is standing on the corner, leaning up against the subway entrance sign...and he looks me dead in the eyes as I approach and says:

"You look like a cold sl*t in that skirt."

GASP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Well actually, inwardly I gasped, because I am a well-school Big City gal and I avert my eyes and ignore scuzzy men and gross come-ons and catcalls and even the more harmless-ish interactions attempted by panhandler and squeegee-wielding types... And as I walked past, looking at the ground and his gaze followed me, I realized that this seemingly somewhat non-threatening guy was actually the same guy who had his belongings hanging off the mailbox on the corner of 47th last week as I was mailing my subscription renewal for Bon Appetit...so maybe I looked at him a little crooked when he wouldn't move his crap so I could mail this all-important correspondence (it is, by the way...I cannot live without my food porn...). But there is no way this dude remembered me...nope...he just spoke his mind as I approached...he actually, truly thought I looked like a "cold sl*t"...and he felt that I needed to be made aware....Thanks crazy mailbox hoarding/subway dwelling freak...!

Let me just make it clear, so you get the full effect...I was wearing a simple black and white patterned dress with a fitted black cardigan and my 3 1/2 inch gunmetal grey patent leather T-straps. Not sure that is sl*t-wear, but whatever you say, crazy mailbox hoarding/subway dwelling freak... And I don't see myself as pushing the envelope in my fashion choices...in fact, I would guess that I am probably a little conservative...a short skirt here and there, some hot shoes maybe...but mostly, I am generally reserved and classically tailored. So I was somewhat offended and perplexed by the comment...it bugged me just a teeny tiny bit...because not only was I called a "sl*t" with bad fashion sense...but a cold sl*t at that...does that mean I am mean and nasty too? Or does cold have another definition on "the streets?" Well, whatever, I guess it's better than being a "rude, thoughtless little pig..."...either way, the truth is, I am pretty certain as to why crazy (etc.) freak made his statement...

Because I am still rocking the bare-leg look a full 2 1/2 months past summer's end.

I can't help it...seriously...I despise pantyhose of any sort...I don't care how silky or sheer or sparkly or how far that sadistic control top flattens my stomach and all my internal organs along with it...I won't put them on. Ok, I will concede that a classic pair of opaque tights can finish a look quite well, but I have to be 100% honest...I only wear those if it is snowing outside. I don't know, I think maybe in a past life I was one of those Victorian courtesans with a full on corset and layers upon layers of muslin and bustles and hoop skirts and god knows what else, because when Sarah Jessica Parker and the Sex & the City posse made it ok to go without...I jumped onboard the naked leg train and never looked back.

I admit it...the late Fall and Winter do get a little difficult when you are talking dressier or even professional looks...and I wear the skirt/boots thing as an alternative...but, the thing is...I am wondering if my crazy friend was simply giving me a tip...like: "Hey, lady, bare-leggedness is so 2005...." Probably is (KR, recessionista/fashionista, please clear this up for me...)...I should probably have moved on to this whole "leggings beneath skirts" (and being that leggings seem to be Lindsay Lohan's uniform, I suspect they are actually the sl*t-wear....) craze or whatever, but I have loved this year-round bare-legged moment in fashion history...sl*t wear or not, I am still rolling with it...

So this whole "cold sl*t" moment reminded me of the conversation Sam and I had as we drove up to Schenectady this past Friday and how we metro-NYC, upscale suburbanites totally convince ourselves that we have it going on with our $200 haute couture jeans and quilted Burberry jackets and Tory Burch ballet flats in every color of the rainbow...and then, there we are not even 20 miles from home, walking down Avenue of the Americas surrounded by supermodels and hipsters and Park Avenue princesses...and then the nutbar on the corner puts you right the hell back into your place. G*ddamn bunch of ninnies we are...it's hilarious! But, all was not lost, we agreed...because we were by far the hottest b*tches in all of Schenectady that night (next to our dear Amber who was strong and as beautiful as ever...much love, sister...).

And you know, there have been some sad fashion trends in my lifetime...and I was right onboard with those too...just the other day Latzy and I were cracking up at the boys' football game about the stylish looks we pulled off as high school girls, looking to impress the boys with the goods....which not a one of them could see in our tapered, pegged Guess jeans and gigantically oversized Benetton sweaters over turtlenecks...I was a size 2 when I was in high school, but every weekend I sported a sweater so bloody huge that each of my best girlfriends could have fit inside it with me. And then Latzy brought up those oversized turtleneck necks that folded over, adding more girth to our boxed in upper bodies...like, we might as well have been wearing a burkha for godssakes. And of course, the look was incomplete without the straight hair -- either bobbed or tastefully just beyond shoulder length -- with the heaviest curtain of bangs possible, cut straight against the forehead. Was there any other way we could cover ourselves...I am certain we would have figured on one if so. Somehow, though, we still seemed to attract the opposite sex, who apparently had no idea we had bodies underneath those tents or they may have been even more frustrated than they already were...am I right, boys? I mean, what do they know of our fashion pain anyway?...The whole system is unfairly balanced...the guys can dress up a button-down and khakis with a simple blue blazer and they look sharp and elegant and pulled together...so they don't have to think...the rules that apply to men in almost all things in life rarely waiver anyway.

And even though I think some of the women's rules have relaxed slightly too much (bikini tops at the grocery store?...bare-midriff at the office (hello, Larry David!)?...Ladies, like Aunt Sassy would say -- we don't need to see that...), I was so impressed when the younger generation of women embraced tank tops and spaghetti straps and curve enhancing formal wear and open-toed shoes and, my favorite, the bare-leg...because it told me that it was ok to show a little skin....you weren't a "cold sl*t" just for letting your pedicure hit the breeze past August 31st.

So, thinking back on it, I guess crazy mailbox hoarding/subway dwelling guy has a perfect right to his fashion opinion (though attacks on character should be reserved for those you know very well, yes?...just saying....)...because, frankly, I feel that fashion is truly so very personal and individual, and we all develop a taste and a consciousness of what works for our bodies and position in life. So if you look good and you feel good and you aren't breaking any laws, then I say have fun...wear what you want, right? Throw caution to the wind....take risks and make it work for you....(right, Tim Gunn???)...and ignore the psych ward street urchins and naysayers...yes? right? you with me????

Um...if it sounds like I am desperately attempting to justify the year-round bare-legged look...well, it's because I totally am....

Love you, my loves....

Suz

Photos:

1: There he is...Sixth Ave fashion critic and character assassin...rude, thoughtless little pig!

2: That is exactly how I looked ignoring my assailant as I strolled on...exactly, like she is my twin for sure....

3: My fashion split personality...all professional in my J. Crew ensemble and Vineyard Vines Nantucket signs sash...holding my hot, delicious Kate Spade 4-inch heeled "guest" slingbacks...worn barelegged, I might add...

4: Barelegged trendsetting icons...

5: RJ, Jen, Charlie and me at St. Vincent Ferrer Church, NYC...in my role as godmother to my brother's first child...no place on earth is too sacred for short skirts and bare legs...apparently...

6: Lindsay in her ubiquitous black leggings...this elegant swan is 23 years old....she only looks 45....

7: Sam and I this spring....barelegged though you cannot tell...in our finest suburban fashions...

8: My indigo satin Tory Burch ballet flats...sublime...enough said...

9: (left to right) Teenaged Lyncher, Murph, me, Casey, Allison and Kerry (and I think a few more under our Champion sweatshirts...) in our most oversized, unsexiest possible outfits, August 1988...at least I had the good sense to go barelegged even then....

10: Bringing masculine style to the Pre-K set, my fearless fashion plate, Tim, in '06...

11: ADP and me fighting over the dirndl...now if I had been wearing that thing when my 6th Ave fashion critic hurled his insult, well, I could not have argued....

Running With The Devil...

So last week brought with it a little bit of heartbreak...which I think we can all agree is never fun. All is well with me and mine, thankfully, so no worries...but, when I sat down to write, I decided that I just needed to escape a little and focus on the fun and silliness that transpired the last few days instead...so I hope you are with me...

Ok, so, this past week was chock full of parties and gatherings and celebrations and social interaction...too much to recount in full really, but I will start with the overview and throw a few details in along the way...you know, a little tasty morsel...

Wednesday, October 28
Carnivorous Cavorting with The Heathers...

I know I talk all the time about the high school glory days...and as much as you all want to mock on me and make fun of the Queen Bee shenanigans my high school coterie and I found ourselves embroiled in as highly-privileged, self-important suburban princesses...we were and are still genuine and giving and a totally cool lot. Every last one of the Holy Angels girls holds a place in my heart, and is like a sister to me...but, let's face it, we are closer to some sisters than others, aren't we?

And so, for the past few months I have been trading sarcastic barbs and snarky commentary and opinions on various issues, as well as secret tidbits by group email (yes, I am aware that I am an adult and should have higher priorities...but alas...) with Stacey, Lyncher and Sally...possibly the three funniest and most dangerously influencing (an appealing quality, I might add...) set of AHA sisters there ever could be. And as such, I am proud to be one of them...our foursome couldn't stand another moment apart, so we embarked on a girlie steak night at The Stable, this Brazilian riodizio in Ridgewood. And the red wine was flowing...and we totally "dug on swine" (trademark: Jules, aka Bada** Motherf&^%$er!) and skewers upon skewers of roasted beef and chicken and sausage and...and ok, PeTA fascists, there were some vegetables mixed in there somewhere. And though, as good little bratty '80's princesses, one of us could very well have ended up downing a Drano cocktail and some corn nuts...we simply took our act live and entertained one another throughout dinner. And we had the best time...because we don't (or can't) hide anything from one another...we don't have to because we already have enough blackmail material on each other, and we will always love one another regardless. Truly, seriously...there is nothing like an old friend...nothing like connecting and remembering and, even with the quips and barbs, being surrounded by that familiar love and support...and relentless abuse...just like old times...!


Thursday, October 29 (Murph's birthday, by the way...Happy, happy!)
Back at The Table...

Ok, so then the next night I was knocked off my preening princess pedestal when I found myself at a book-launch party. You know, back in the chic and fabulous PR agency days of old, these types of events were a dime a dozen (who doesn't remember my deliciously wicked tale and secret quasi-love affair with Rocco DiSpirito...) and as fresh little PR minions, myself and the collection of sharp, fun, bright young things who worked the scene became jaded by the circles in which we ran, and the talent to which we were exposed. So eventually we all went on to different corners of the PR game...me getting my corporate on with the gig in-house at Weight Watchers and then the 'burbs and the kids...the others scattered...some to Europe or the West Coast...some starting their own firms...some becoming chefs or food stylists or internet millionaires...but most of the old gang became writers...Heidi and Jim, particularly, who both have made a career of writing cookbooks with chefs...former clients of our old chic and fabulous PR firm.

So this time around, I was on the circuit for Heidi's second book with the master chef/owner of Aquavit in New York City and others across the nation, Marcus Samuelsson (who we described as "The Black Swede" back when he first hit the scene because of his Ethiopian heritage and Swedish upbringing...a distinction one no longer needs to make in referring to him...). At any rate, now Marcus has become an industry superstar....and still gracious and appreciative of his success...and Heidi, my girl, is his long-time friend and co-writer. The book they wrote together is New American Table and it is beautifully shot and well-written and filled with new twists on deliciousness...and of course you all need to buy many copies and give them to everyone you know for Christmas...you know, because Heidi is my friend and thus she is your friend too...but aside from that...and aside from my swelling pride and admiration for Heidi and her talents and accomplishments and her beautiful enduring friendship to me...the truth is, this book party brought me all the way back...and reminded me so much of how beyond those years I have traveled.

You know, at first I found myself standing apart from the sea of the culturally elite publishing and restaurant and magazine folks...the gorgeous black models sipping Cabernet or Sauvignon Blanc or sparkling California (no domestic beers available here...or imported for that matter...sorry, folks!) and their sleek and sartorially perfect black male counterparts. Short suburban blond (ok, brownie-blond) all dressed up in corporate/country club chic...a complete anomaly in this room. But then I found my 1998 PR gal persona from deep within me and I chatted with Heidi and Eric and Marcus and the Bon Appetit writer and her French chef husband...and I marched across the room to talk to Bob Giraldi, the famous director (Michael Jackson's "Beat It," Pat Benatar's "Love Is a Battlefield," videos and countless award-winning commercials (including the infamous Michael Jackson/Pepsi fire/hair gel mess...) and films are in his catalog). Bob also happens to be a highly-regarded restaurateur and most importantly, my very best friend Allison's uncle....so of course he knows my parents and family... So I had a moment to chat him up and I told him how much I love his film, Dinner Rush...that it is one of my favorite foodie movies and I recommend it to everyone...and I do, please, you must run and rent this movie...a little New York-centric gem, a love note to this City and the scene...you will not regret it. So Bob was touched and pleased...and we said goodbye on that note.

Later, when Marcus took the stage and thanked Heidi for her friendship and for sharing her talent, I welled up....and I remembered why it was that I loved being a part of the professional foodie crowd...because it is all about loving what you do...and, even more so, putting love into what you do.

So though it may have been hilariously comical to stand in the corner of that room with The Heathers or one of my ballbusting cohorts and giggle and roll our eyes at the chic fabulousness of it all, it was even better to drink it all in and enjoy the moment....

When I left the party and returned to the 'burbs that night, we took the kids out for ice cream sundaes....


Friday and Saturday, October 30 & 31
Mischief Making...

All Hallow's Eve, baby...the kickoff to the eating and drinking season...may fave! So, it was a whirlwind weekend...you know, on top of Friday being my one day off to take care of errands and salon visits and shopping trips...I also had to spend most of the day at the school readying for the big Halloween Parade...and of course it was adorable, the kids are so cute and into being on display...But best of all, no doubt, was after the parade when Will, my jealous and possessive 6 year old kindergartner who was all dressed up in this ill-fitting policeman costume that kind of looked like some Eastern European military suit with this odd mushroomy hat, sang Halloween songs with his class. And leave it to Will...the kid stood there in front of all the parents and completely mugged for the cameras the entire time, adding his own choreography like some miniature glory hog...which Rob and I found beyond hysterical...honestly, you need to see it for yourself to truly get the vibe on this child, so as soon as I figure out how to upload it to this blog, you will be the first to know...

Later that night was the Halloween hayride and bonfire at Abma's Farm, hosted annually by Amber and Steve. And I was running all over creation wrapping up loose ends so we could make it on time...getting the kids fed...dropping and then retrieving Tim from swim practice...searching the entire house for their misplaced fleeces...all while whipping up a deliciously seasonal last minute batch of Hot Buttered Rum...an all-important accessory for any hayride...or any outdoor Fall activity, come to think of it. So we rode the hay and sat around the bonfire while the angels toasted marshmallows...and after a few slugs of the HBR, I cracked into Mike's beers as well...And we let the kids run loose and tell stories and drop sticks into the extra smoky fire...

On the ride home, we encountered a number of stealth teenaged mischief-makers TP-ing and pumpkin smashing...and thankfully my house was untouched, but apparently they were attaching Christmas garland and "It's a Boy" and "It's a Girl" balloons on Pina and Paul's and Chris and Jimmy's and Dana and Freddy's front porch steps...and then Jimmy spent the next 24 hours accusing every member of our crew, trying to vet out the culprit. Sorry, JH...I was snuggled in bed with my three kids by 10:30 that night...as far as you know... Even so, I fully expect a "For Sale" sign to appear on my lawn or the little blue Jag to end up parked on a tree branch in the next few weeks for sure...

So my costume was a pair of sparkly red devil horns...and when I placed them on my head Will said: "Mom, your head is very horny!" Ha! You have no idea, kid.... This was my first costume in years...probably since college (oh wait...how could I forget the St. Pauli Girl dirndl just last week...!!)...and every year the kids

beg me to be more festive...so this year I obliged. And almost everyone I

encountered made some joke about my true devilish nature, you know, stuff like: "Why aren't you wearing a costume?" or "A devil? how appropriate!" Thank you, my beloved friends...

Anyway, somehow on this day, I, the mother of three young children, ended up trick-or-treating in the misty rain (hello frizz-bomb) with a bunch of adults...my kids scattered about The Knolls with different parents and friends, or taking a break back at the house, while I was sipping a little Sam Adams strolling the neighborhood and chilling with Gwen and Joe and Pina (as a kitty cat, fyi...) and Paul and Nancy and Susan and Mike...their children in tow. And we bumped into other clans of parents and children along the way...and we toasted and shared a cold one or two along the route....and we all planned to meet at Dana's for the Freddy's Birthday/Halloween Pizza & Baseball bash...

...and it was there that I finally caught up with my own family, and also, Suse and Scott and Helen and Wendy and Roger and Kathy and Mark and Sam and Brian. And we had a great night on Dana and Freddy's tented-in deck with the plasma TV all wired up earlier by Tim...we ate pizza and drank Coronas and were very merry (or spooky, I guess, since it was Halloween...). The kids were all high on sugar, running around like a pack of wild dogs...up and down the stairs and in and out the front door, playing "ding-dong ditch"... And we ladies laughed and talked and tended to the younger kids (little Janie letting me hold her for 20 minutes while she rested her head on my shoulder...hmmm...maybe having another baby wouldn't be all that bad...) while the men watched football, waiting for the World Series game to finally begin. Soon we began to tire, and the kids began to get punchy and teary and pouty and belligerent...Will ran to me and said: "That boy is shining a flashlight in my eyes...and that can make you blind!"

Time to exit. We grabbed the kids and off we went....with bags and bags of candy in our possession and my devil horns still in place on top of my head...(actually, they are permanent...).

Sunday, November 1
Running Into the Sun(day)...

We headed in early to the Big City so that we could meet the family over on the East Side at the designated spot we chose, between 92nd and 93rd on First, to cheer on my brother, RJ, who was running his third New York City Marathon. And knowing that the day would end over on the Westside, we parked on West End Avenue and then trudged across town on foot to Lexington Avenue and the 6 train. Now, those of you not from here might not know that this is a long walk...almost all the way from one side on the City to the other...and I, the Mean Mom, made my kids walk it...and the more they b*tched and complained, the more I insisted we walk...not for a second entertaining the notion of a cab...I refuse to raise gratuitous cab riding wusses. And even though we bumped into the Schuh's of Wyckoff on Central Park South and enjoyed some chatter while we walked, the kids all overly excited to have met up with pals from school...even then, Ellie was planning to call DYFS herself by the time we jumped onto the crowded subway car...Come and get me, I say...

At any rate...we caught up with the family -- my sister-in-law and parents and sister and nephews...and as we settled ourselves I received a text from Suse, who was with her children waiting to cheer on Scott, who was also running, over by the Central Park Boathouse...and she told me that Scott had just passed mile 18...three blocks north of where we stood...we missed him! We were so bummed...but when we did the math, we were blown away...at mile marker 18, Scott had been running for less than 2 hours...amazing!

RJ was about an hour behind Scott, also running at a nice pace...and we all cheered and waved as he approached...and he and his running posse stopped and he kissed his son and his wife and he thanked us and we took pictures and gave them some power bars and encouragement...and again, they were off.

And after that, we hit Kennedy's...

You know me...it is all about the fun and food and festivity...the whole reason I come to c

heer RJ on each year is so I can grab a beer with him afterwards...and Kennedy's was just my kind of spot. It's one of those New York City relics over on 57th between 8th and 9th...a scrappy Irish pub up front with a big long mahogany bar and subway tiled floors, scores of photos on the walls of their boozy celeb clientele...Rod Stewart and Julian Lennon and Carroll O'Connor and Ted Kennedy....and in the back, there is a dark dining room with another bar, white tablecloths and leather banquettes...so retro, so low key and basic and un-fabulous, that it's as cool as all get-out...and beyond perfect...my favorite little piece of New York style...

So my Dad leads us all to the back and we take our seats and order our drinks....Rob and I the sole afternoon boozers in the crowd, me with a Blue Moon and he with a Captain's and Ginger...We ordered burgers and pot pies and ate the Irish soda bread and readied for the rest of our gang to show. And then, I glanced directly across the room...and there he was, on the exact opposite wall from me, sitting in my twin banquette and looking back at me...TV icon (I overuse the term...but it applies here, no?) and the answer to many a trivia question...the one, the only...Larry Hagman!!! You know... Major Nelson....JR Ewing, for crissakes. And man, he got old... But who cares? I love old guys! So I try to act like I am shooting pictures of Tim and Tyler and my Dad...but really, I am thinking of all of you, trying to get a picture of Larry to show off right here...the guy totally caught me, by the way. So there he was enjoying a little Sunday lunch with his wife and some other dude, and we heard them gossiping about a very famous geriatric, but highly regarded actress of TV, movies and theater...and how the b*tch is losing her mind!!! I love a little Hollywood scoop when I least expect it...So, it was a bonus...

Soon our extended posse arrived...and we learned that Scott finished at 3:10:00 (like a g*ddamned panther, he is...)...and RJ came in at 4:18:08...and I texted Suse and Scott with our love and congratulations....and I kissed my brother goodbye and

congratulated him again on his accomplishments. Damn, we all know how hard it was for me and my Jughead sisters to walk those first 26 miles, so to run it, to me, was quite a feat. And though we would have loved to celebrate into the night, it was time to hit the road...time to wind down the crazy weekend follies...time to snuggle up in front of TiVo, readying for Mad Men with some of those Peanut Butter Cup cookies I made for Dana and Freddy's party in hand, my three little darlings surrounding me on the bed...

In a week of so many happenings, this was another moment to be savored...as every moment should be...am I right, my loves?

Photos:

1: The Heathers...(clockwise) me, Stacy, Sally and Maureen...a fleeting moment in which our mouths were not crammed with food or dripping with sarcasm...

2. Sally shows off her rack...oh, and a slab of swine too...

3. Me and Heidi back in the day at The Hunt in '98...our sunglasses making it quite clear just how utterly cool we (thought we) were...

4. Marcus and The New American Table...go, go...get it, get it....

5. Dinner Rush: Jersey's own Danny Aiello and mounds of Italian food...does it get any better?

6. My Tim scaring the absolute cr*p out of me at the Halloween parade...

7. Will as some Special Section officer or something else equally suspect...getting ready for his close up...

8. The crew and children, melting marshmallows over the bonfire...

9. Me and Ellie -- daughter and bride of Satan...black lipstick all fresh and dainty on my 9 year old...

10. Another gratuitous shot of Lisa H. with me in my St. Pauli Girl dirndl...I know you were all hoping I'd walk the streets this Halloween in that get-up...

11. Me, Pina and Gwen trick-or-treating in our Halloween finest...well, our best efforts in the rainy suburbs, at least...

12. Spending the last half of my night entertaining the babies at Dana and Freddy's house...

13 & 14. RJ in the NYC Marathon, running up First Avenue...and then a quick hug and kiss with Charlie...

15. Double fisting at Kennedy's...

16. My (not so) surreptitious "shot" of (or at!) JR....

17, 18 & 19. Taking the time to savor a little snuggle with each one of my babies in the booths at Kennedy's...memories of the mandatory crosstown walk, distant and fleeting...