You Know, She Thrills Me With All Her Charms...

Ok so, this past Friday afternoon I somehow talked my husband into allowing me...wait a minute, I lost myself there for a second...did I say that he "allowed " me to do something? Laughable, right? Who allows me??? Let me rephrase...somehow I made him believe it was his idea that I go to an afternoon movie all alone while he retrieved and cared for our children. Score! And though I adore my little cherubs and often spend the day longing for them, being alone is like, my favorite thing ever...well, until I get bored and start texting and emailing anyone who is still sitting at his or her desk, manhandling a Crackberry...or if nothing else I just call Suse for a mindless afternoon chat. But I digress...there is nothing like being alone with your thoughts...especially in the darkness of a theater....(yikes, that sounds vaguely pornographic...totally unintentional...).

So, anyway, I saw The Wrestler with Mickey Rourke (!)...and I am going to reserve commentary because I have a long history with wrestlers, which is an episode in my life that I will need to dissect in tandem with my movie review...and it is an especially embarrassing story, so you'll want to wait. So anyway, when the movie was over I had every intention of heading back home and chilling with the family....but as I stepped out into the bright sunlight (bonus points for the first one who identifies the classic work of young adult fiction from which that last phrase is lifted), I received a call from Gwen inviting me to tag along with she and the Ferguson sisters, who were off to a spontaneous dinner at this newly renovated, multi-tiered local mega restaurant, Portobello. Complete with fancy bar, $16 drinks and another "Bad Manilow" bar singer, this spot is divorcee central, swear to G*d...so guys, get your a**es there if you are on the prowl for an easy good time....And so it took the waiter no less than 30 minutes to bring our first drink order, the four of us still took in the scene, laughed and enjoyed the time together. And though it was harder this time around, I once again convinced my husband that my evening jaunt was his idea (oh don't get your knickers in a twist, guys, I promised him he could have Saturday afternoon to loaf around and completely check out to his heart's content...and then I spent all day cooking his favorite Tagliatelle Bolognese for Sunday dinner...).

But that is not my point...it's just that, my ability to sidestep responsibility didn't end there. I woke up this past Saturday morning and my middle child was ready to head out early for lacrosse with Rob, and my first born was being picked up for basketball by one of the neighborhood moms. So then, just as I was about to extricate myself from my billowy, toasty comforter and pack my jealous and possessive 5 year old into the little blue Jag for a caffeine-run, my dad called and offered to deliver my daily iced venti nonfat latte to my doorstep. Yes! Another score for me...this day was already kicking a**. Now, I had all morning long to decode the blind items on Dlisted.com and visit my vast array of email inboxes.

And that is where I found it....the best invitation I have received in months. No, no...not another cocktail hour or bar crawl or dinner party or trunk show...even better. This is what the message said:

"Dear Suzanne -- Your Facebook friend, K------, has invited you to join the group, Jill Biden Hooker Boot Fan Club. Please follow the attached link to accept this invitation."

Awesome!!!!!!!!

So, I wasted no time clicking the link and viewing the fan page...and I busted out laughing at the description the club's moderator posted to explain this new fan club's purpose. It said:

"Jill Biden is my new favorite VP wife because she wore hooker boots to the Inauguration. I wonder if Bill Clinton even noticed someone was being sworn in as President?"

Hilarious! and so true...that n'er-do-well Bill Clinton...he would so be my type if he wasn't such a man-wh*ring glory hog...or maybe those are actually his appealing qualities, not sure...

So anyway, I am not much of a cyber group joiner, aside from my alumni network pages, the only Facebook "groups" that I felt were representative of my personality and deigned to join are: Addicted to Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives (who isn't) and Nancy Whiskey Pub NYC (my fave dive bar and the one spot in town at which I am always guaranteed to be the best dressed person in the room...well, second best actually...). The thing was, this "friend" who invited me to join the Jill Biden Hooker Boot Fan Club, though she enjoys my blogs, is not one of my besties or anything...not someone whom I realized would intrinsically know that, not only is Mrs. Biden by far the one character with whom I most identify in this new four year sitcom, The Obama Administration....but also, that I would waste no time joining a fan club for a ferocious pair of boots.

But come on, it's occurred to each one of us -- there is definitely something secretly intriguing brewing under Jill Biden's doting wife surface. That little pixie with her upper middleclass suburban blond highlights and cute suits...I feel like I know her, like she represents the fun-loving sorority sisters and jaded housewives...and I definitely like her. And then I figured out why -- Jill Biden is from New Jersey....I knew she looked familiar... You know, everyone thinks they are Pennsylvania salt-of-the-earthers....not exactly. Jill was born in Hammonton (actually, since I never venture south of Hoboken, I am not quite sure where that is...but I know it is within New Jersey state limits...) and she spent her youthful summers waitressing at The Shore -- a required right of passage for Garden State residents. And, come on folks, one thing that we can all agree on is that we well-heeled ladies of New Jersey are that perfect combination of sophistication and vivacity...a little glamour on the fringe of the buttoned-up, Wall Street prepster aesthetic that permeates the metro-New York City suburban enclaves. You know, Jill probably goes bare-legged at the Country Club dinners like some of us do (those randy old WASPs love that look...)...and I have a feeling she might wear a little lacy black bra underneath her cashmere sweater sets. And I could totally see her right there with Allison and I that time we were the only two Jersey girls in attendance at our BFF HG's baby shower in Cos Cob...All those refined Connecticut ladies were so quiet and pristine and well-mannered...and there we were, the only two in the room sporting lip gloss, our skirt hems a little higher than their tasteful pantsuits. And we were giggling and cheering on HG throughout gift opening, one needlepoint pillow after another...And you could just tell the other guests just didn't know what to make of Allison and me...but we were having the best damn time. The best...You know, so throwing a little edge and spirit and, ok, some sexiness, into an otherwise elegant affair is a move that I applaud...and those hooker boots sold Jill Biden to me...she is definitely, by far the hottest VP wife in all the land. How did Joe B.'s hair plugs land her? I need to know.

So, it's kind of refreshing after eight years with a somewhat ornery Vice Presidental couple to meet Mrs. Biden and see her breathe a little life into the office. So, I am actually really looking forward to Jill's profile steadily rising over the next four years...I hope she goes on Oprah every week and spills inside secrets and gossip and then just shrugs it off, ignoring Joe's protests and "shush-ing"...and that she perks up every DC cocktail party by winking and flirting with every one of those old relics still serving terms in the Senate...I hope she annoys Michelle Obama daily with her cuteness...and of course I hope she rocks short skirts and hot shoes to every single state dinner, bill signing, Presidential address, Kennedy Center Honors ceremony and turkey pardoning for the next four years.

But most of all, I hope she convinces her dear husband that it was all his idea in the first place.

xoxo, Suz

Photo 1: There I am, enjoying a quiet moment alone at the movies...I hope that guy next to me didn't mind me snuggling up...

Photo 2: One of the few scenes from The Wrestler in which I did not cover my eyes...he is that busted...

Photo 3: Mmmm...think I might lick the monitor...

Photo 4: Mommy: so looking for an excuse not to come out from under those covers...(as shot by my jealous and possessive 5 year old...)

Photo 5: Fiercest Inaugural get-up since that hot b*tch, Lady Bird, graced the scene...

Photo 6: Oh man...he is just so naughty...and (who's with me??) kind of irresistable too...

Photo 7: What Jersey girl doesn't love a show dedicated to the beauty of the iconic diner?

Photo 8: With one of my Nancy Whiskey besties, Elvis (swear to G*d),...yes, yet again am best dressed...

Photo 9: JB: upstaging the First Lady with her Jersey style...

Photo 10: BFF Allison and me...spicing up elegant affairs across the tri-state since 1979...

Photo 11: Shhhhhhhhhhh...Jill is making an a** out of Joe and I want to hear every minute of it...

The Sisters Christian...Motorin', Baby!

Ok, so before I get started telling you all about the party this weekend...by far the most awesome Reunion party I have ever attended...and that is saying a lot coming from me, who started this whole blogging thing two years ago to promote my 15 year college reunion. I love Reunions...and this one was so great, so satisfying. But I'll get to that...before I get started, I need to relay a little chat I had last week with my Boston BFF, TL.

I was early for pick up, parked on the side of the school, my jealous and possessive five year old bouncing around the car, whining for my undivided attention. Perfect time to call TL, right?! So at any rate, we cover a few points of business relating to a meeting we had scheduled last week for the Stonehill College New York Alumni Council...(I think I might actually be TL's NY-based secretary, by the way, but that's another story altogether). Anyway, so TL says to me: "I have been following your blog of course and I have to say, you and your friends certainly like to have a good time." And I swell with pride...yeah, we are a fun bunch. But then I note the tone of his voice, which is kind of impressed, but there's a twinge of concern there...so I laugh and say: "Oh yeah...Suse and I were just saying the other day that people are going to start thinking we are a bunch of alcoholics." And TL deadpans, no discernable sarcasm in his voice: "Well, honestly, now that you mention it....I was wondering that myself." !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And TL lives in Boston....the problem drinking capital of the universe!! A bunch of suburban broads cutting loose seemed cause for concern??? Yikes! Or maybe he was angling for an invitation to the next bash...not sure. I responded by cracking him up with the line: "Oh TL, I am not some big drunk...I am just popular." Hahahaha....Either way, don't we all go to parties so that we can stand over the buffet table like some two-legged Hoover, fonduing our way from house to house, comparing fashion finds, accessories and shoes with friends and neighbors....I know that's why I socialize... And would I be able to recall my experiences with such clarity? No, no....no need for an Intervention -- well, maybe for the fondue problem, but that's it....Thanks for caring though, TL... Oh but, make no mistake, I do love parties...that is an addiction I will proudly cop to.

Which brings me back to high school...

So this past May marked the 20th anniversary of my graduation from The Academy of the Holy Angels (I was a prodigy, of course...graduated at 15...) and to mark the occasion, the school made a half-hearted attempt to host a Reunion: a Mass followed by a tea, which I think they held in the caf. Really? Were they joking? So, sadly, none of the women of 1988 attended...none of my friends...none of the extended posse...no one. And we felt a little like jerks for missing it...but, truth is, we are a dynamic, fun-loving group...we needed a festive celebration to commemorate our milestone. And you know, I really prefer to attend events in which I have some say in the planning process...I know, very controlling of me, but true. So, after batting it a around a little, mentioning it on Facebook and all that, my girl Stacey and I finally decided to take the bull by the horns...we picked a date and set about spreading the word. And the response was amazing (let me tell you, quite a bit better than the response to my last college reunion, even with all that damn blogging....)...I received emails and calls from girls I had not seen since graduation day, even some I am not quite sure I spoke to in those four years. And the messages were coming from far and wide -- Atlanta, Boston, Midwest, California, South Carolina -- all asking for details and plans and expressing their excitement that finally we would all be together again.

So this past Saturday, after modeling a few outfits for Rob, settling on the straight, dark jeans, the 4-inch high gunmetal gray patent leather t-straps and a fuschia/navy combo on top...the getting-too-long hair painstakingly blown straight (yeah, my hair is actually tempermental and wavy...things you do not know about me...), lip gloss in place...I set off for the event. And when I arrived at The Cornerstone in Hillsdale (which many of you will remember as JP Anthony's...and then Bourbon Street....the site of many a reckless youthful evening...), I was directed downstairs to the lower bar, which was set aside for our group...perfectly festive with it's exposed brick walls and 15 foot mahogany bar. Stacey was there waiting with Ange and Geri and after we squealed for a few minutes, I introduced myself to our staff, and, of course, the bartender (Jimmy) and waiter (Sean) immediately became my best friends...what else is new? And after I sweet-talked Sean into making the general manager change their satellite radio station to the '80's mix station (hello, what's a 20-year Reunion without a little "Paradise by the Dashboard Light"...oh, right...that's the 70's...ok, a little "Walking on Sunshine"...), we set about greeting the rest of the girls as they arrived, a

 little house Chardonnay in hand...Stacey clad in her sophomore year A.H.A varsity jacket...such a hot fashion statement...

And all of a sudden, the onslaught...it was like one-by-one blasts from the pasts -- I could barely process one, when another was right behind her. First it was Gina P. (pride of Secaucus) and Lisa M....and then Patty D. (rocking by far the hottest shoes in existence since Gwen's party stilettos) and Christy Ann with a new, blonder highlight job that she said her mom told her was "an admission that she's getting old..." Love it!! And then my girl Cathy S. (Sabu!) showed and frankly, I had to muster all my power not to smother her with hugs...one of my best girls, I hadn't seen her in at least 2 years. And then Darts made her way in...the one friend there that night whom I have known almost as long as I have known Allison...so much history. Then there was Adriana, and Kim D. with Veronica...who none of us knew was coming, great surprise...then it was Pam S. and Bridget and Janie and Sally and Tara and Kerry (who confessed to me her fantasy that Murph would secretly come in from Atlanta and surprise us...and I wished it too...) and Jenn and Beth and 

Eileen and Lisa P. and Welbis and my besties, Case and Al

 and Lyncher...And there was AMO -- signature ginger locks

 just like in high school -- and Tracy F. and Geri O'S. Then all the way from Kansas City, Carolyn F. and her very brave husband, the only male willing to navigate the Holy Angels waters with us that night (well except for late showings by Patty's gorgeous boyfriend and Kerry's doting husband...)...I was impressed. Laura M. was the last to arrive...nine months pregnant...rocking it out despite the unwieldy belly. You know...it was just this whirlwind of

 faces...these girls, each and every one of them looking to me exactly like they did at age 17...but more beautiful. Everyone was just beautiful.

So, of course we all caught up...were impressed with one another's professional accomplishments and gaggle of children to brag about. We laughed our a**es off at the stupid '80's fashions 

and the weird Catholic school teachers (Mr. Carrara and Miss Stanzione got married....eeek!!)....and those Alzheimers-afflicted nuns who were still teaching us (no wonder I have such poor knowledge of US History, but I can tell you what Sister Ruth ate for breakfast every morning). And we covered all the social happenings of '88....rolling eyes at boyfriends and hook-ups and prom dates...played "guess who married who" and "guess who's divorced from who"...revisited memories of the Bergen Catholic-Don Bosco rivalry.....Patty and Casey and Pam talked up the Bosco cheerleading years, Patty insisting she could still cartwheel, even in those 6-inch

 strappy shoes...We covered the best parties, checking to see if Allison could still recall exactly where we were and what she wore every single weekend night of Senior year...and for a moment we smiled looking back at the force that was Lawrence...Cathy and I recounted that final Senior summer...and Allison once again raked Lyncher over the coals for grouping with Sally and Mary and Cathy one day in Religion class Junior year, leaving me and Al as a group of two...we'll never let it die, Lyncher, you can count on that....

So we had Sean snap a couple of group shots...and then Darts and I went upstairs and batted our eyes at some guy eating dinner with his girlfriend, asking him to photograph our group from up above...Of course we talked about those from our class of 162 who were unable to join us...and the two that, sadly, we have lost. And all that high school hierarchy and politicking wasn't even a factor...everyone just wanted to see each other because, well speaking for myself, there is nothing like a true sisterhood...and that is what we had with one another. And though I think I knew back then that we were enjoying a unique experience -- 162 girls, all together, coming of age -- it was much clearer this Saturday night...again, I felt blessed and lucky because we are forever linked.

I know...I should end there, right...on that final heartfelt thought. But there's more...

Ok, so then....at 10:30, our party wrapped up and the manager came to me to settle the bill...and he warned me that they had to open the lower bar to the rest of the patrons, that they would be turning on more current music and that our open bar was now closed. And so, we said goodbye to many of the girls...just a few of us hanging around as the entire joint filled up with 20-somethings. And so we danced for a while...and drank a little more and hugged and took photos. I have a memory of Darts and I sort of dancing with the most ginormous man in the room -- was he a bouncer?? -- he looked like Notorious B.I.G., but was very sweet....Still not sure how that started...And there were some cute boys waving to us and winking and all that...but they were boys, no use to any of us, of course...and we no real use to them. And though we were having such fun and though we had the run of the room, it started to become quite clear to me that we were bringing the average age of the place up to around thirty...yeah, it was getting about time to call it a night.

So, I did a quick sweep of the joint, kissing and hugging the last Class of '88 hold-outs and then ran over to Sean and Jimmy with a final extra tip (my best friends, remember them?...on top of the extra cash, each of them received a juicy kiss from me as well...because, you know, I am a very generous tipper...). And as I turned away from them, heading towards the stairs, some 20-something guy with no hair grabbed my wrist and said: "Your boyfriend must hate you." And I was kind of stunned for a second...where the eff did this guy come from? I didn't know him, did I? But I gathered my thoughts and said: "Do you mean my husband must hate me?" and he goes: "Well, I bet both of them do....because if you were mine, I would never let you go out without me." Ok...he got me...I was speechless for the first time in history. So I just shrugged, still not quite so sure how that all rounded back to me being hatable, and said: "Thanks, I guess..." and turned on my heels and ran up the stairs...not looking back. Where was this guy when I was actually young and naive enough to be flattered by his odd gesture?

I suppose my hairless friend was picking up on the high school vibe that my girls of '88 and I were exuding...and maybe in the muted lighting he didn't see the un-Botoxed laugh lines and multiple child-bearing hip spread. But, I guess 20 years later it is ok to take a little compliment -- inane and misguided, and probably as disingenuous as it was...why not end the night as I started it, with a little nod back to my 18 year-old self...Ha! yeah, why not? Because you know, she is deep inside me still...she is posting all the party pictures on Facebook...giggling and leaving messages and comments and relentlessly busting everyone's chops all across cyberspace...and of course, already on to planning the next gathering....just like the good old days...

Photo 1: Al, Geri, Ange, Case and Me...Allison already cutting loose with her giant cup of Diet Coke....watch out!

Photo 2: My permanent position at virtually any party...fondue fork in hand, Suse to my left...

Photo 3: Stacey and me...looking all charming and friendly...secretly controlling b*tches, hijacking Class of '88 reunion planning duties...

Photo 4: The girls start to arrive...Kim D. , Me, Beth and Jenn get the party started...house Chardonnay, please!!

Photo 5: Me and Stacey as she models her elegant and fabulous A.H.A. varsity jacket...not a pathetic look for a high school sophomore at all...

Photo 6: Sally (goddess), Veronica, Beth, Gina, Tracy and Adriana...hotter than ever...loving the funky glasses and dark tresses on Tracy...

Photo 7: Lisa, Ange, Casey and Eileen....did Ange drop that grin even once that night??

Photo 8: Lyncher, Me and Cathy/Sabu...my girls...

Photos 9 - 12: A selection of the Ladies of '88....

Photo 13: Me, Al and Lyncher...now wouldn't we three have made a terrific little Religion work group? Yeah, thanks for nothing, Lyncher...

Photo 14: Darts and Me...harrassing the upstairs diners...

Photo 15: The Ladies of '88...as seen by the upstairs diners...

Photo 16: Giddy group shots...too many seltzers and Diet Cokes, feeling a little tipsy...where's the fondue?

Photo 17: Darts, Me and Jenn...some of the last hold outs, awaiting the 20-somethings...how far behind is Notoriouos B.I.G.??

Photo 18: There she is...that little 18 year-old who lives inside me...

Believed You Were Lucky...

I was thisclose to bailing on all of you this week...I know, can you believe? It was just one of those weeks in which I was a little bit sulky and suspicious and full of worry...extra sensitive to the slightest change in plans or any perceived minor infraction. So, I was kind of like, knock-down-drag-out pissed at pretty much everyone. Well, except for my kids, oddly enough, who
were just extra angelic this week...oh, and all of you of course....well, most of you. So I figured I should take a break...because I know, for you guys especially, listening to an angry female rail on is about as enticing as swallowing razor blades...and sometimes I think taking a little break is truly the only course of action...a bit of protection for this delicate little heart.

But that all changed on Thursday....that lucky day. I don't know if it is coincidence or not, but earlier in the week I was at Town & Country in Ridgewood...you locals know it, but for the rest of you, it is this old time apothecary that also sells fine cosmetics, gifts and handmade jewelry...And T&C is my go-to stop for my Bumble & Bumble shampoo and La Mer creams. You know, even though I am a Bergen County gal, mere 10 minutes from Paramus/Land 'O Malls...I would hit every single boutique from here to Montauk before I would choose to set foot inside Garden State Plaza or Riverside Square or (g*d forbid) Paramus Park Mall (though the shoe departments are tempting...). But I digress, where was I? Oh right...at T&C this week I was purchasing a little Jaqua Chocolate Buttercream Body Wash when out of the corner of my eye, I saw this little lariat necklace with a pretty etched pale yellow stone on one loop and a little silver four-leaf clover on the other. And though being more than half Irish, I am not exactly one of those ethnic chicks with all that Celtic pride, but for some reason it was calling to me and I had to have it. But you know, in these tight times I rethought it a little -- Who am I kidding? I admired it for a while, noting the price as $76...yeah, I think Rob might throttle me for the $20 yummy delicious body wash, forget the necklace...And then, the girl came over and said: "You know, that stone has a little nick in it, so I can give you the necklace for 50% off." Well, apparently the luck of the "little more than half" Irish was at play -- or it was kismet -- the little four-leaf clover lariat became mine.

And then all of a sudden, the week took a turn....I woke up Thursday morning and in perusing my jammed email inbox I learned that I was kicking a** in my Top Chef Fantasy Game. Ok...let me go back...I am not a Fantasy Game dork...but I am a food porn wh*re and descend from a long line of small time gamblers and handicappers. Well, ok, not a long line...my dear dad thinks that gambling is second only to smoking as the most pathetic, disgusting and ridiculous of all vices. But, my dad's dad, my most beloved grandparent, this tough German SOB with a missing thumb (collectors maybe??), maker of the most amazing pot roast in my memory, the namesake of my jealous and possessive 5 year old, the guy I simply called "Gramps"...well, he enjoyed the horses...I'll just leave it at that for now. At any rate....turns out I may have inherited his handcapping talent because my little Fantasy Team of chefs is rocking the competition...and I selected them before the season started, blind choices, based on their bios. So, while my sisters are languishing at 335 and 363 on the overall leaderboard...I am lucky number 75. Ok, I know, this is kind of a lame little feather in my cap...but I am the youngest girl in the family, and I have been waiting for years to finally be better at some kind of sport than the althletically gifted middle sister, Tricia...and to be more crafty and strategic than the genius oldest child, Cathleen. So...do me a favor and allow me this gloating period, I am certain it is fleeting...

So then, later on this very same Thursday I spent some time uploading some high school pictures to Facebook in preparation for this weekend's Academy of the Holy Angels Class of '88 Official Unoffical Twenty (and a half) Year Reunion...for which I am the hostess and lead event coordinator. And all day long I was picking up messages from my high school posse on Facebook...how hilariously over-made-up were we girls? And why did we, size 2's each and every one of us, why did we wear XXXL Champion sweatshirts and baggy shorts...WTF? And all the Bergen Catholic guys still had hair...And so we were all interacting and making fun of each other...and every single one of the girls of '88 is so ramped up for this weekend...so excited to see each other...And so, I suppose it was a happy turn of events that Stacey and I decided we needed to plan this thing, because just the thought of getting together is bringing back so many great memories and feelings. How lucky were we to live back then, with our fluffy hair and dyed-to-match satin prom shoes. Lucky now to have a chance to laugh at ourselves...lucky that we are still here to talk about it.

Then, Thursday late afternoon...I was with my boys at Chuck E. Cheese (I was a Chuck E. virgin until today, by the way....) for a birthday party...scarfing greasy pizza and pounding diet cokes with my besties, Suse and Lisa H....my jealous and possessive 5 year old begging to drag me to that damn prize counter where you trade in 75 tickets for a piece of gum or a pencil eraser shaped like a spider when my phone rang and vibrated. It was Rob and he said: "Did you get my texts? Did you hear about the plane?" And immediately my heart dropped and I had those visions...Not again, please G*d...When I frantically asked for clarification he said: "A US Airways jet from LaGuardia on the way to Charlotte crashed into the Hudson River." Holy Mother Of Sh*t!! Ok, bound for Charlotte...Dad was traveling today, but he was on route to Houston...and he left hours ago. So I braced myself and asked the question: "How many are dead?" And Rob said: "None." Wha???? Really??? Such a sense of relief washed over me...and though I was a little stunned and needed him to elaborate, all I could think as he explained the course of events: Today was such a lucky day.

I have never been a big "good luck charm" person or even particularly superstitious. Well, I do buy into the horoscope stuff, I admit it. I am a true Pisces -- creative, spiritual, understanding, unrealistic, impractical -- to a fault often. However, I absolutely believe that the people we love who have left us are on the other side communicating, guiding us and protecting us. I have always felt that our little internal tugs and instincts are messages, little taps on the shoulder telling us to be aware (someday I will tell you about the day my dad fell down the subway stairs and you will know that I am right). And so today, I don't know what it was, but there had to have been an abundance, a host even, of guardian angels carrying that plane...laying it down on the river...the biggest, brightest and best city in the universe breathing a sigh of relief...tragedy averted.

Ok, ok...so maybe I am making a few stretches here to prove my point, but all I mean to say is that the events of this Thursday, January 15th seemed a little like a sign (and I didn't even tell you about the near miss car accident on the way home from Chuck E. Cheese in which, me, my two boys and one of their little friends very nearly became collateral damages....). I think our luck is on an upswing, guys...We've been through a lot these past months and I just know that the tide is starting to turn. I can feel it. So maybe it was one of my lost loved ones who put that little four-leaf clover in my path (probably Lawrence, right, guys...)...you know, as a little sign from the other side. And I want to believe, so I have decided that I am going with it....

Photo 1: Suz: I'm out....or maybe I'm not....

Photo 2: Area 201 -- the rest of NJ might as well be below the Mason-Dixon line....

Photo 3: Mmmm...all scrubbed up and scrumptious with my new body wash...

Photo 4: Gramps...words cannot capture the depth of my love...

Photo 5: Seany, Murph and Tom S., August 1988....Murph all size 0 in her elephant-sized shorts and sweatshirt...

Photo 6: Drew, Veronica, Elyse and Slawdogs pounding some Busch (big spenders) on way to Senior prom...buckets of makeup and vats of hairspray died for our looks that night. Love the '80's matching red cummerbund and tie on Slaw.

Photo 7: Lucky Flight 1549...narrowly escaping our worst nightmares...sinking into the Hudson...

Photo 8: Pisces...cannot escape the power of the Zodiac...

Photo 9: A New York City angel...

Photo 10: Believe you are lucky...

"...There Was a Time, Not Long Ago..."

Ok, so maybe it's time for a little breather from the round-the-clock festivity of the holiday season, right? I don't know what it was this year, but the circuit in town these weeks since Thanksgiving was extra active...and you know me, I am right there, debating whether to spend all my hard-earned cash on the kids' Christmas gifts or babysitters so that I can partake in the maddness. And ok, after a while I saw some of my friends' outfits two, three and four times...and my velvet tuxedo pants and spiked Tory Burch-es certainly got a workout...but how could our wardrobes be expected to keep up with the frenetic pace? And it didn't end until '09 had already made its appearance...of course we could not say goodbye to the scene before Wendy (of the sand-pit, tiki-torch, Flying Muller Brothers band, teen-dream summer party a few posts back) could pull out all the stops with her WinterFest '09 this past Saturday night. And again, she and Roger outdid themselves....150 guests, tented yard, Broadway pianist providing the tunes, full, top-shelf bar flowing all night, sushi chefs deftly constructing the fresh spicy tuna rolls, roving photographers, late night sliders with fries and the most motley yet dead-on mix of neighbors and friends. As I worked the room with Suse...sharing tidbits and giggles with Mary, Kathy (ugh, that tragic card....), Gwen (rocking her hot stilettos once again...), Dana, Chris, Kim, Pina, Jen...I could go on...and you know, it was a perfect kiss-off to the mixed bag that was '08...everyone laughing and happy...the smile plastered across my face from beginning to end....

But now, I am ready to chill. Just hang in, wear pjs all day long, snuggle all warm with my babies in front of a movie, the three of them passing out with me in my bed. Bliss, right? And I know I am not alone in this desire to sort of rest a little as

 the weather gets darker and colder. My dear old friend, former roommate and bridesmaid, Lisa M., called one night just before the New Year and confessed that instead of going out that night she had hit Dean & DeLuca for a selection of French cheeses, cured olives, a nice baguette and a big bottle Cotes due Rhone...she had put her two kids to bed early, the husband was out gallivanting...and she couldn't be happier. And we laughed, not at her spinster's delight of an evening, but at my complete and utter jealousy...I was on my way to a really fun holiday wine pairing dinner with the Swingers, but I would have stripped off my 4-inch heels in a second to be on Lisa's sofa alongside her, talking and laughing into the wee morning hours. Such a change from what we would have been doing on a Saturday night back when we were roommates...just out of college, first apartment, before we lived in the City and were all paired up with our now husbands...before our careers took off and our children were born. Before we had responsibilities...

We lived across the river still at that time, but Lisa and I spent every weekend on the Upper Westside (which seemed slightly more grown up, not quite so littered with barf bars as was the Upper East Side at the time)...Hey, who didn't love The Bear Bar on Broadway (long gone)....and what about The Dublin House on 79th Street (also the site of my first date with Rob) with the two bartenders who both looked exactly like Phil Collins (were they brothers? There has to be some old Dublin House devotees out there who know the answer to that...). Lisa started dating this Dublin House mainstay, a big, beefy, self-important Fordham Law student...I think his name was Brendan...all I remember is that he smoked cigars that made us sick so we poured a beer on it one night when he wasn't looking and he almost lost his sh*t...hahahaha...what a complete jacka**! And every single time I hear the Spin Doctors ("If you want to call me baby, just go ahead now... "), I am immediately transported back inside that smoky crowded bar, Phil Collins 1 and 2 serving up Amstel Lights, Lisa and I both rocking those cowboy boot shoe things we girls all loved so much...ugh...what a horrific fashion trend...but so very '93, no?

The Dublin House is still there, by the way....I haven't hung out on the Upper Westside since those days with Lisa -- I quickly became a downtown girl upon moving to our tiny studio on West 10th Street after a brief stint on Columbus Avenue in '94. Anyway, I was so surprised that 

Dublin House was still there, though I am not quite sure why that was so shocking, really...other than the fact that I guess sometimes you assume, if you are no longer a part of something, then it no longer exists....And isn't that so true? I mean, I cannot be the only one who convinces myself that time stands still when we make an exit in life...like everyone that was there with you is in suspended animation, just waiting upon your return. In my mind, everyone I have left behind is living in some alternate universe, tapping their feet, wondering what is taking me so damn long...

So anyway, after I spoke with Lisa the other day, I so longed to penetrate that alternate universe, or at least relive the memories. So I pulled out the old mixed tapes and '90's playlists...and forget the Spin Doctors...the true icon of that era, for Lisa and I at least, was the goddess of glum, Aimee Mann. The former lead singer of early '80's one-hit-wonder, 'Til Tuesday, Aimee Mann, is of course the poet laureate and patron saint of wallowing, upper-middleclass, gullible, post-collegiate English majors. Lisa and I fit squarely within her target demo, and as such, it was our calling in life to overplay her discs until everyone in the room either writhed in the pain of lost love or wanted to commit suicide. Some of our favorite tracks on her solo debut, Whatever (even the name "Whatever" denotes Aimee's depressed genius...love her...), were entitled: "Stupid Thing," "I've Had It," and "I Know There's a Word for This." I mean, can't you just feel it??? Yes, Aimee, we hear you...men are cruel b*stards! every last one of them! Oh, and I would be remiss not to mention that we also had 'Til Tuesday's great disc, Everything's Different Now, on heavy 

rotation and we would play "Lucky" ("I wish you believed in life, believed in fate, believed you were lucky and worth the wait, cause life could be lovely, oh life could be f**king great....") over and over. Yeah...so you can see where we were coming from...And listening to Whatever brought it all back in a flood, like the soundtrack to a great old movie, scenes playing over and over in my brain...and I kind of felt as though I was secretly peering into that alternate universe -- or as Aimee might say, the other end of the telescope -- watching my 23 year-old self figure it all out.

So eventually Lisa and I grew out of the post-collegiate pixie stage and both moved in

to the City, met the guys who would become our husbands and set upon our professional lives, building our futures. Lisa went on to a truly illustrious career as the Director of Design with AOL, and now is a partner in her own design firm based in DC. We both have kids and chat only fleetingly these days...and every time we do, we talk about getting together for more grown up pursuits...spa visits, girls' weekends, Oscars viewing parties, martinis and bellinis at The W Union Square. And you all know what I went on to do...ups and downs, career changes and professional hijinks and chef crushes and kids and friends and shoes and gourmet cooking nights and secrets and lies and boy bands...and that I eventually ended up here...writing this blog that I named, "Thus It Continues." ....And you know, my dear Lisa is the only one out there who ever figured out that the blog's title is inspired by a favorite line written by our favorite poet, Aimee Mann, from a favorite song, "J for Jules," on an old favorite disc, Whatever...

So maybe a small part of me hasn't quite completely moved beyond those days...and that's ok, right? I hope so, because all this Upper Westside flashbacking and Spin Doctors talk has me jonesing for a smoky, crowded, loud Dublin House run...Did I say I wanted to chill out for a few weeks? Forget that!...Come on...who's with me?!

Photo 1: Me and Suse...quite a self-portrait we attempted there...says it all as the season comes to a close....

Photo 2: Some of the neighborhood posse staking out the slider and fries delivery well past midnight...

Photo 3: Now that right there is hot sex on a plate, no???

Photo 4: The Lady Swingers cozying up to our true loves...about 800 bottles of wine...

Photo 5: BFFs Allison, me and Lisa preparing to hit the Upper Westside, Summer '93...our glamorous apartment had no hot water, but dammit, we had a stairmaster!

Photo 6: Big sis, Cathleen, with Lisa at another great old bar, The Ginger Man...Cath taking part in some cigar smoking (how '95 of her...)...I don't believe this ever really happened though because I was obviously absent...

Photo 7: Lisa's BFF, Mikki, me and Lisa...on the way to Dublin House...I remember I was wearing Tevas that night (swear to G*d!)...

Photo 8: All hail...the great Dublin House...

Photo 9: Goddess...author of the words: "...like most amazing things, it's easy to miss and easy to mistake...for when things are really great, it just means everything's in its place..."

Photo 10: Goddess now so damn depressed she can't even lift her head for the cover shot...Whatever...

Photo 11: Allison, Lisa, Heidi and Liesl, now grown ups...no more Dublin House...The Hunt instead!

Photos 12 & 13: Some of my naughty partners in crime...Suse, Lisa and Latzy...odds are one of them is on way over as I write, ready to head to The Dublin House...