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...