Baby, That's Where It's At....

So my Saturday evening culminated at 2 o'clock Sunday morning in Pina's kitchen, scarfing sweet crunchy doughy homemade zeppoles...need I say more???

Damn straight I need to say more! Though warm greasy zeppoles are a perfect ending to any story, the lead in is even better...the mega event I "hinted" at last week did not disappoint...so let's rewind a tad, set the scene and get the full effect, shall we?

Last Friday night kicked off my weekend in perfect fashion...Rob was out with some buddies in the City, a mysterious crew with whom I have had no direct contact...I think it might be Larry, Jack, Chrissy and Janet and the other regulars at the Regal Beagle, but not sure. Either way, he was well on his way before I even arrived home from work...my mom hanging with our kids until I arrived, but chomping at the bit to head out on her own evening plans. So I snagged my kids and we hit The Village Grill for a little dinner, sitting at one of those tall rickety bar tables next to the Friday night barflies...and as we were seated I got a call from BFF Allison and we discussed the virtues of sleek hair versus wavy and which look boys find more enticing...this an integral point in my wardrobing and beautifying plans for the mega event I was attending on Saturday. So as we sat and ate and the kids kept jumping off the tall chairs to my protests, I glanced around and noticed an inordinate amount of "single" parents dining with kids...and I realized I had hit the divorcee circuit totally unwittingly. Point was driven home when the dude next to me, 56 years of age at least with his white hair and plaid button down and 12 year old daughter, started chatting with me, commiserating on my attempts to control my angels in this setting, telling me that he "remembers those days" making little jokes about being too old to have a 12 year old and I am just giggling along...and then I realize he is trying to pick me up...I mean, who wouldn't find a harried mother of three still in her work clothes, makeup smudged, cell phone attached to the ear, downing an Amstel on a Friday night a good catch? Hotness, right? I politely turned my back on him and pretended my phone was ringing...he eventually went away after a brief lurking period. So after dinner, the kids and I went home, shared the Magnolia Bakery cupcakes I brought home from the City, sat on the couch, on-demanded "Hotel For Dogs"....each one of them snuggled up to me, Ellie on my left, Tim on my right and Will laying across my lap, in his typical possessive fashion, trying in vain to elbow thet other two out of the way....how cozy and delicious...for me, this is bliss.

So the big day was upon us... Saturday night: Helen's Island-themed Reggae Splash 40th Birthday Bash!!!! The hottest ticket in town...and the flawless weather was on our side. So I hit the salon early anyway for my weekly touch ups and Dogan decided that I needed to go sleek for the party and executed a killer blow-out as Michelle made my fingers and toes sparkle. After the salon visit I took a detour to the St. Joseph's Home for the Aged, where Ellie had to perform community service... setting up and helping out with Bingo...that experience is another post in itself...geriatric social politics are an endless source of intrigue to me...those b*tches are worse than the "Heathers." Anyway, the suggested party dress code was Island-wear, and my friends and I had been back and forth all week long bouncing ideas off one another (island-wear? Could I go as Long Island, then? Acid wash, Aquanet and Lee Press-Ons???...heehee...oh, you know I love you, LI...). So we were all swapping outfits and ordering new looks from J.Crew and Vineyard Vines (hey, check out page 44 of the new catalog...some Ritt/Andersons enjoying a sail in Bermuda with their "Chappy" trunks...) and the standout: Dress Barn (right, Wend???)...So with a few selections each, Rob and I decided we'd stick with the Bermuda aesthetic...me in a light blue and green flared VV skirt covered with pinaeapple cocktails, a light pink tee and bright green cardigan...my Bermudian glass "Pisces" earrings in place and my famously coveted jeweled t-strap sandals adorning my tootsies. Suse had Scott veto her final selections, and though a tropical sundress on loan from Mary was looking like the front runner, she went in another direction ultimately with the classic white pant and floral tank...Yes, for sure, we personified "Island."

So earlier in the week, Mary and Sandy had decided to host a small group for cocktails and a little pre-party fun. And since none of us planned on driving to the event, in a stroke of genius, Mary decided that Sandy would come pick the pre-party guests up, like a little prom bus chauffeuring service, so that we could all walk down Wyckoff Avenue together, from their house to the party scene. So at 6:15 p.m., Rob and I in our "Bermuda" finest, Veuve Clicquot in one hand, Helen's gift (a lovely turquoise and silver beaded necklace that we group gifted with Suse, Scott and the Giffords....) in the other, we stepped into Sandy's ginormous black Yukon Denali, rounded over to grab Suse and Scott...and the night began.... Mary and Sandy's yard looking lush and gorgeous, peppered with bursts of spring florals...all thanks to her green thumb. We toasted with the Veuve and noshed on some cheese and crackers and gucamole and the sesame-crusted ahi...lining the stomach for the alcoholic onslaught. Soon Kathy arrived (solo, lucky Mark playing 36 holes up in New England...) alongside Wendy and Roger (of the annual beach bashes and kicka** Christmas parties...)...then Richie Ray (Kathleen stuck shuttling the kids...) made his way across the street and the party was complete. We girls posing for pics (some of the ladies taking the chance to mock my signature pose that they see each week right here on this blog...the twisted body and side-flipped head...I am a pro at this point...), taking in each others' fine "Island" fashions, coveting one anothers' frocks and jewels and new lip glosses and just having the best time laughing...and we all need a laugh or two, for sure. It was there too that we discussed the team Christine and Suse are forming in honor of our dear Kathy...a big group of friends walking the Avon Two Day Walk for Breast Cancer in October....with Kathy as our team captain. And though the conversation pretty much split down gender lines, I am sure the guys covered the Yankees and Mets and the hockey championships and busted each others' b*lls relentlessly about one thing or another while pounding Coronas and Heinekins and I think I even saw Sandy pouring some Cabernet out of a carafe...mmmm...suburban fun, we definitely know how to have it....

When the time finally came to walk down to Helen and Bill's house for the real party (a fashionable 45 minutes post start time...), Roger convinced us ladies to hop into his Jeep for a ride instead, which we did, and in less than two minutes we pulled into Helen's circular drive, six tuxedoed valets awaiting us.... We hopped out and immediately felt the energy in the air...the festive reggae music floating from the giant tented yard, candles and stringed lights illuminating the path...we bumped into Teri and Charlie on the driveway as Roger swung around to retrieve our husbands -- who were still hanging with Sandy on his driveway -- and we all walked towards the party together. And everywhere we turned we were face to face with another great fun friend or neighbor...Nancy, Tim and Christine chatting with our host, Bill...next it was Susan and Mike, Annie and Danny...everyone sporting the biggest smiles. The celebratory vibe was infectious...and we hadn't even entered the tent yet.

Soon we made our way through the lantern-lit tent out towards the poolside bar, set up in Helen's poolhouse...there were precious, beautiful photos of Helen at different stages of life blown up, adorning the pathway and hanging behind the bar. And you could see in them her little girl face...this little funky cool spirit in there, awaiting this moment... On the way to the bar we said hello to the birthday girl, laid back and lovely...embracing the Nantucket look, I'd say, in a gorgeous white tunic and jeans...hair all flowy and wild and curly. And I couldn't help but think how perfectly the party atmosphere captured Helen's spirit...totally vivacious, happy and fun...not to mention ultra-cool.

So I encountered even more friends as we made our way through...Ben and Ellen, who looked hippie chic/beach goddess in her red tunic and retro headband. Then Sam appeared, grabbed my wrist and we hit the bar (she was hoping a gimlet or six would be in her future...sorry, no vodka on the islands!!), where the two bartenders were mixing up rum drinks -- classic mojitos (we each ordered two) and this orangey-reddish rum punch that looked like a Swizzle but tasted like high octane 80 proof moonshine...Sam and I found Dana at the bar, loving the rum punch of course and wearing a giant sweater over her cute tropical dress...and again, everywhere we turned was another friend...Pina and Danielle and their posse on the late side...everyone all dressed up and happy and having a blast...

You know, so we just all socialized and caught up...and it went on like that all night...Honestly I can barely remember the bulk of my conversations, mostly they were drowned out by the reggae beat. At one point Gwen and I hit the bar and the industrious bartender made me a "mojito" with Rose's lime juice and Sprite...my teeth almost fell out on the first sip...which Gwen found simultaneously hilarious and disgusting. We switched to white wine after that, which eventually ended up spilling down my skirt as I leapt towards Nancy and snapped a photo all at once. Oh and then Scott told Mary that she had dropped to number three on his "list" behind Suse and the new entry -- one of the party guests, a total knock-out whom I have taken to calling "Wyckoff Barbie" with her glossy blond curls and giant gardenia behind one ear. So it became Mary's mission to win Scott back, claiming that it was the first she learned she was even on "the list," let alone number two...Meanwhile Suse and I were off with Sandy and Ellen and Kathleen, causing trouble, I think...I know we were sort of dancing...I clearly remember being grabbed from behind by one of the guests as he said "now who is this hot little thing..." Seriously, dude? I think he may have thought I was a hired dancer in my preppy outfit, a country club sl*t like that girl from Caddyshack, I suppose...Sandy, who was claiming Mary had banished him to the doghouse for his choice of shirt, shooed my extra friendly suitor away and the guy came to his senses, politely retreating. You naughty boys...After that I found myself with Christine and Nancy and Susan and Pina and Mary and Wendy all talking plans for our team Avon Walk (so excited Susan is coming along because she is endlessly entertaining to me...great stories...please snuggle in next to me at Randall's Island, Susie!) and I made sure John was looped in on the plan so that he could tell Kim, as she was under the weather forcing him to come to the party stag, which is the kind of commitment to socializing that I can get behind...Later in the night a bunch of the guys were in Helen and Bill's barn, playing some ping pong tournament, Freddy and Tim and Scott and Brian and Mike and Joe...all competitive and cheering loudly....Rob was off with his "number two," Danielle (tied with TJ), sharing rum punches, and I knew the ramifications of his hangover were in my future.

So it was at this particular moment when I noticed that every one of my BFFs was MIA...not a one was left under that tent. So I started to search, heading towards the barn where there were these two guys hanging outside the doorway...and I caught their eyes...and immediately I recognized him...I was face to face with one of my greatest guy friends from high school, Chris St. P. (aka Butter...though Allison and I always called him Saintser)...and as the connection became clear, I began to squeal. It had been years since I had seen him...I knew sort of where he was over the years, where the guys all ended up...but we had gone to separate, single-sexed schools, so there were only word-of-mouth updates to be had as the years went on, usually through Casey via Slawdogs. But honestly...after the whole thing with Lawrence back in '91, it became more difficult for us to get together as a group...painful...so we had lost touch somewhat. But here Saintser was...and I couldn't contain my excitement. Saintser knew Helen since childhood, hence his presence at the bash...So we reminisced and caught up and I met his wife and he and Rob became quick friends...We told our selection of friends that began to surround us all of the ridiculous stories. About the time, upon Saintser's return home from summering in 'Sconset, I whispered an entire summer's worth of gossip and drama in his ear while we sat on Mike Lynch's back porch, and only after I was done did he tell me that he couldn't hear out of the ear I was speaking into, and turned his head so I could retell the saga again....And that time Lawrence and I were smooching in a little nook upstairs at Saintser's house, getting cozy on some cushiony bed/couch thing...when all of a sudden, Saintser whips the door open and bellows: "Larry, dude, that's my dog's bed!"....we freaked, jumping up dusting off clumps of hair and fuzz and dog grossness left over by that giant golden retriever blond lab or whatever the damn thing was....I still have nightmares about that...(ugh, that was also the night that my Dad picked me up from the party and Larry kissed me goodbye on the mouth right in front of him...another nightmarish memory...). I remember doing shots of Wild Turkey in Saintser's living room with the guys one night...and later Allison having to drive my car home and put me to bed...after we inhaled some fries and gravy at Matthew's Diner...ick, gross...yet somehow, I was a size 2.... And even with the painful/stupid/embarrassing parts, we laughed so much remembering...

Before the night was out, I told Saintser the story of the time I visited the spiritualist...and how she told me she was talking to Lawrence...how she described him to a T -- the height, the blue, blue eyes -- and said he was blowing cigarette smoke in her face. And how he told her that he had met my baby -- the one I was carrying at the time, my jealous and possessive 5 1/2 year old -- on the other side. And I told her to ask Lawrence to please not teach my baby any of his tricks...which made Saintser laugh. And then I told him about how the spiritualist gave me the message she said Lawrence had for me, which I relayed to Saintser....and like me, he was blown away...and he knew that the experience was genuine, because we knew Larry, and the message was exactly what he would have said.

Seeing Saintser made this already amazingly good time near perfect...lucky me to be surrounded by great neighbors and friends...to have such a fun place to live, that all these folks just want to enjoy one another and share good times...and lucky me to find a dear old friend waiting there in the mix too...

So eventually the crowd started thinning and some of my besties, Suse and Nancy and Gwen and their husbands and mine, sat in the little cube chairs surrounding a low candlelit coffee table, right by the band (we called it the I Dream of Jeannie lounge...totally looked like that only updated from it's swinging 60's blue and pink palette...). Rob noted the time and decided to hightail it back home so one of us could relieve the sitter...it was 12:45....he left his sunglasses behind in his haste and Tim had fun mocking their Brooks Brothers aesthetic, putting them on, popping his collar and effecting a Locust Valley lockjaw with ridiculous lines like: "My nanny had the nerve to ask for a vacation day..." Silly drunk stuff...but we thought it was g*ddamned hysterical.

Helen and Bill were thanking and bidding farewell to their guests and I wanted to tell her how much I thought the party just screamed "Helen"...bubbly, fun and non-stop joy. How would I ever top this for my 40th? I don't think I will try...because to do so, I'd have to personally rent out the Island of Bermuda for a week and host each of you there for a week (Daddy, get on that!)...Yes, Helen's party was that great and I truly appreciated being a part of it.

So the rest of us dirty stay-outs (I swear, our group is always the last ones to go...) knew the time had come to make our exit. Suse and Scott agreed to walk me home as my escort was long gone, him being the responsible grown-up of our duo, as always... So the three of us recounted the night on the way home, and just as we hit the corner of Sunset and Pathway Manor, Teri and Charlie and Kathy pulled up and offered us a ride...and we hopped in. Charlie turned on to Martom and as I was directing him to my house, he pulled into Pina and Paul's driveway and we all hopped out...

After Party!!

We poured into Pina's front room...now, so you don't think we are rude, thoughtless little pigs (copyright: Alec Baldwin...), Pina did mention a little late night noshing would be afoot in her kitchen.... And was it ever...she had already whipped up a batch of Healthy Choice or Fiber One or some other gross healthy brand pancakes...covered with organic syrup. We chipped and dipped and a bunch of the crew were mixing up Grey Goose and tonics, but thankfully I was wise enough to abstain. However, I did finish Danielle's leftover Healthy Choice or Fiber One pancakes....and that's when Pina wondered if she should fry up some zeppoles. Well, damn, girl... this is New Jersey....of course you should fry up some zeppoles...I don't care what time it is! So Suse and Danielle and I helped fashion little dough balls while Pina heated a full pot of oil. And we stood over the bubbly pot like a bunch of Pavlov's dogs. And I promise you this...they were delicious and crispy and doughy and sweet...the yummiest zeppoles ever...and we scarfed them at 2 a.m., right there in Pina's kitchen.

I was in bed, face scrubbed, teeth brushed, next to my jealous and possessive 5 1/2 year old 20 minutes later. Could there be a better ending?

Many kisses, my loves....

xoxo

Suz

Photo 1: Zeppoles: the cornerstone of a nutritious breakfast...

Photo 2: Rob and his undercover posse, the Regal Beagle regulars...

Photo 3: My real breakfast that morning...Magnolia buttercream...

Photo 4: Suse, Mary and me...just popped the Veuve...all Islanded-up and ready to rock...

Photo 5: Mary, Suse and Wendy...those b*tches are trying to cop my signature pose...

Photo 6: Suse, Kathy, me, Mary and Wendy...I am such a midget...

Photo 7: Kathy and me...showing gums and double chins and crows feet...but laughing our a**es off, and we needed it...

Photo 8: Nancy, Kathy and Tim...as we arrive onsite...

Photo 9: A gaggle of hot Wyckoff moms...I mean, how can you men keep yourselves from this place now that you know what beauty awaits you...?

Photo 10: Little girl Helen...watching over the bar scene...my kind of kid...

Photo 11: Suse and hippie chick, Ellen...definitely plotting some shenanigans...

Photo 12: Sam and me...who can get us a gimlet...anyone??

Photo 13: Pina and me -- not on "the list"...but those other two....could that beauty be Mary's rival...?

Photo 14: Suse, Sandy and me...I think that shirt is totally hot...as long as my husband knows enough not to wear it....

Photo 15: Tim, Brian, Mike and Rob...sharing their "lists" with one another...

Photo 16: Two of my besties, Nancy and Gwen...looking like teenagers at a kegger...

Photo 17: Real teens at a kegger...circa 1988...a selection of my high school posse...Saintser top row, fourth from left...toasting...

Photo 18: Saintser and me today...still gorgeous...

Photo 19 and 20: The dirty stay-outs...the usual suspects...but we are a damn fun lot...

Photo 21: Pina, zeppole aficionado and late night short order cook...all in her adorable maxi dress...just another night on Wyckoff...

Come On And Save Me...

Ok, I'll give you the Cliffs Notes version of our Memorial Day weekend shenanigans...Friday drinks with some of the other moms at the Brick House, the three-person conga line headed up by TJ, as we closed the joint long after the valets had returned our keys to 

us and had gone home for the night...this all while Rob and our kids bonfired in Gwen and Joe's yard, Brian and the girls in the mix too... And on Saturday, a little friendly BBQ chez Suz with dear friends, a gaggle of kids running around all night in the cool air, each couple unexpectedly arriving with a stocked cooler to go with our full bar (Crown Royal, anyone...any takers? didn't think so...), Scott hauling out his beanbag game with the beer holders on the stakes and the guys loudly cheering each time they scored...Suse and I again entertaining the group with the severed finger story (which has grown back, believe it or not....just like a regenerated crab claw...eeek), this time sistergirlfriend, Lisa H., putting in her two cents on the

 phone call she received from me mid-catastrophe...so again, my ineptitude is the butt of the joke...but I can take it. And then we spent Sunday on Christine and Jimmy's beautiful back porch, celebrating birthdays and the beginning of what will most certainly be a great summer, Mike's extra delicious mojitos kicking the party up a few notches....not to mention Christine's burger bar. Then on Monday the whole town turned out for the official celebration (I almost forgot this was actually a holiday honoring the sacrafices of our troops, though I was reminded when I read the most hilarious selection from someecards.com, which said it best: "I hope we can fit in some memorializing between boozing, tanning and f&%!ing..." So nasty...yet true...LOVE that!). So my perfect middle child proudly walked in his first Memorial Day parade with his Dad...and then Sharon and Ed's all-day bash followed...a cast of characters from every corner of town (where, somehow, over Hard Lemonades, Dana, TJ and I were talked into co-chairing a major PTO function next year...), gorgeous, perfect weather and massive water fights...even TJ got into the act accidentally and I am not sure CDP has forgiven her quite yet....actually, I am still shaking in my flip flops recalling the incident. Such a great weekend...

And now I am exhausted, so maybe I will just go into hiding until Labor Day....

I know, bite my tongue...so unlike me to hibernate. You know, there are already tons of events on the calendar to look forward to, all the way into September (hello, Flying Mueller Brothers...)...Starting with this weekend's mega-event that I will keep secret until all is evidenced right here next week...and we have the Lilly Pulitzer party at the Union League Club with RJP next week...my trip to Bermuda coming up as soon as the kids are out of school...and there are more parties and Shore weekends and concerts and visits to The Cape and Friday night barbecues by the lake and Sunday dinners on the patio at Dad's club... Not to mention breaking out the summer fashions (am ordering my Vineyard Vines strapless Tokeneke dress as I write...in "Nautical" by the way...) and my collection of toe-less shoes that show off my bi-weekly pedicure. That is my favorite part of summer...always being able to look down and see pretty, shiny sparkly rose-colored toes...small pleasures, you know...

But, I have to admit...taking a post-Bermuda refuge on the lounge by Dad's pool seems tempting...you know, spend all of July and August totally incommunicado...working on the tan, catching up on my reading, letting the kids run wild (who needs camp?)...no schedule at all...is that so bad? Who is with me? Come on...let's all just quit the non-stop attempt to fill the leisurely summer days with activities and playdates and action and some manic itinerary.... I know, impossible...it's just one of my (many) yummy fantasies...but what would I do without order? And anyway...I think I might miss you all too much...

It's just that every year when we return from Bermuda, as early in the summer as it is, I am usually pretty spent...I have already reached my tanned peak (look just like a delicious caffe latte...), swam my heart out, rode waves, biked for miles, boated, snorkeled, shopped, dined out, Swizzled, and had a non-stop hug fest with my kids....all in front of the most beautiful backdrop in the universe...that turquoise water and the magenta sunsets and the twisty roads through lush hills. And every year we are home for no more than 36 hours when the Bermuda buzz dissolves and the onslaught begins...running three separate kids to three separate summer camps...getting the midday guilts as I allow them to watch iCarly marathons instead of taking them to the beach club to see their friends...and when I do, ending up trying to deflect their pleas for another one of those giant, nasty, red, white and blue "rocket" ice pops from the snack shack that will leave them covered in sticky Red Dye #5...and I am always giving in, buying ice pops and fries and gum and M&M's because I am tired of being the cranky mom...and because I just cannot fight anymore...someone, save me!

Ok...ok guys, I can hear a thunderstorm of breadwinner eye-rolling through the screen...I know sitting at a desk in front of a computer while the summer sun beats on your window is no fun either, because I have been there...I know that the daily grind for you guys never ends, no matter the season...and I know you would give just about anything to spend entire weeks running around with your kids, eating a little ice cream at the beach and having some free time to hit the links and chill at the Men's Grill, a refreshing little Grey Goose and tonic in hand (two limes)...so I am sorry to, even for a second, act as though filling the long days at home is some form of waterboarding or something. I am fully aware that the summer malaise is the best of all malaises to have...I just have to remind myself every once in a while... It is hard to remember to take pleasure in the daily routine...to be thankful for these life moments...

And then something happened this past weekend that snapped me back to reality...two seemingly unrelated events that had my head spinning when all was said and done...stunned by the irony...

Last Thursday my very best friend, Allison (you know...Barbie collection, rainbow suspenders, Day of Our Lives aficionado by age 5...), called me to let me know that her Auntie Marylou had died. Allison and I have been closest friends, like sisters, since we were nine years old...and Auntie Marylou was a fixture in my life as in hers, because she was the maiden aunt who had never married and had no children, always there on holidays and events. Mary

lou didn't add much to the conversation ever, but she remembered to ask after my parents and siblings and children...always. So upon hearing the news, Allison and I shed a few quiet tears, whispering to one another that it was just so sad, because Marylou was lonely and she didn't have any friends really and so she just faded a little into the background. We had secretly called her Eleanor Rigby (god, we were always such brats...funny though, right???), back in the day...and now that she had died, it seemed even more so...

But...the next day Allison called again...this time to tell me that her dad, Auntie Marylou's brother and sole survivor, had made the decision to have Marylou's organs donated...and the family had learned that Marylou's liver had been in perfect shape...and had been shipped to a hospital in Pittsburgh to save a dying person's life. And we cried again, this time with happiness in our tears because finally, in death, Marylou had given someone life. She wasn't just hanging in the corner anymore, Eleanor Rigby and all...her life had made an impact. And we were so happy...and thankful...What a lovely ending...

And then...

This Saturday night we got a message from my sister, Tricia...my friends were still out on the deck, Rob having just lit his chiminea, flames shooting 8 feet in the air, a little Eric Clapton on the Bose...the message went something like this:

"Please, please pray for Ashley...she is in Intensive Care at Columbia Presbyterian Hospital with debilitating stomach pains and extreme jaundice...we will keep you posted."

Ashley is my niece, Andie's, very best friend...since pre-kindergarten, constantly together, even when parted by school districts and diametrically opposing interests and extra-curriculars...Ashley is the effortless braniac, lover of Harry Potter movies and roller-coasters...Andie the theatrically gifted one, prone to massive button-pushing and sarcastic quips (hmmmm...who does she take after??)... Andie and Ashley even jokingly list their status on Facebook as "married" to one another. So, you know...Ashley is to Andie what Allison is to me...her other half and soul sister...unlikely matches, made in heaven. Upon hearing the news, my heart began to bleed...she was healthy and perfect days before, this came out of nowhere...

I was sitting on Christine and Jimmy's back porch Sunday night watching all of our friends' kids run wild, making each other laugh, when I learned via text that the Ashley's condition was dire. She needed a liver transplant within 24 to 48 hours... Of course we were dumbfounded. We went home that night and I crawled into bed and sobbed with my pillow over my head so the kids wouldn't hear me...trying to shake the sympathy pains I was feeling for Ashley's parents...and my niece...I couldn't imagine...

But it was the irony that just blew my mind and still does...here we were, only days prior, elated at the thought that Auntie Marylou had given another person life through her death. And here now,we are helpless watching a bright, sweet sixteen year old girl, her whole life ahead

 of her, facing the unthinkable... The fact

that I was so closely and rapidly experiencing both sides of this issue was incredible to me...what kind of lesson is this? So we just prayed...

And we got a liver! On Tuesday afternoon Ashley went in for her transplant...the same day we attended Marylou's wake where her brother and nephews, Allison's dad and brothers, sported lapel pins that said Donate Life and little green wrist bands with the same slogan were available for the taking...my kids are wearing them now. And this morning my Dad called out of his office as I walked by (yes, am working with him for a few weeks...that's a whole different story...) to tell me that he had received word that after 12 hours, at 2 a.m. this morning, Ashley came out of surgery and she is strong...vital signs good. A long road ahead...but what a blessing. I am choked up still.

Ok...so I am not perfect...I have lots of flaws and fears and ineptitude and can be a total screw up a lot of the time...and you definitely don't want me around in a crisis, we have established that. I take things for granted and I forget to be caring and giving and patient to those that I love... So for me to be preachy to you, my friends, is ridiculous...not like me at all (although I do enjoy being controlling and bossy at times...). But I think there has to be a reason that these two linked, yet separate, events happened to people in my life...to soul sisters and very best friends...it must mean that I had to tell all of you...so that you would see from both sides, as I have now, to Donate Life is one of the most precious gifts we can ever give. Tough to think about, but should the decision ever be mine, I know I will not hesitate...

Ok...so off the soapbox and no more serious talk of Eleanor Rigbys and tragedies averted...just uplifting fun and good times ahead this summer. So, forget that summer malaise, I am going to do whatever I want and have the best damn time I can every minute, starting with that mega-event I am hitting this weekend. No hints, so don't bother asking....just let your imaginations run wild...and no, it is not the St. E's parish picnic...though you will see me there too, for sure... I don't want to miss the chance to buy my kids one of those giant, nasty, red, white and blue "rocket" ice pops...I will even welcome the Red Dye #5 dripping off their chins...the deliciously sticky taste of summer fun...

Love you...mean it...

xoxo

Suz

PS Sending you all of our love, Ashley....

Photo 1: Long Weekend? Housewives on the loose...which one is the bad influence? Not me!

Photo 2: A gaggle of our children, friends and neighbors celebrating good times...what it's all about, right?

Photo 3: Mike concentrates while concocting his special secret mojito brew...it's all in the wrist...

Photo 4: The Tokeneke dress by Vineyard Vines...in Nautical...as worn by my twin...(stop laughing...).

Photo 5: Me, my kids and nephew soaking in the Bermuda mystique...do we have to go back to the grind? Can't we just stay???

Photo 6: The Rocket...my hands are getting sticky just looking at it...

Photo 7: Grey Goose and tonic...who can resist such sparkly summer deliciousness?

Photo 8: My mirror soul and very best friend., Allison...30 years and counting.

Photo 9: Mirror souls and very best friends, Ashley and Andie, December '99...

Photo 10: Now 16...still soul sisters...Ashley and Andie...

Photo 11: Donate Life...

Photo 12: My jealous and possessive 5 1/2 year old. Ok, so he's covered in Mint Chip and not Red Dye #5...still the sweetest, most kissable face in town, stickiness and all...

A Double Pleasure Is Waiting For You...!

I actually see the sun today...like real sun, not just a few rays poking through the clouds...and it's not Wizard of Oz windy and penetratingly chilly....it's finally, actually, really May. Just in time for June....or well, actually, it's Memorial Day Weekend....yay! Parades and BBQs and cocktails and parties all weekend long....my signature perfect margaritas definitely making an appearance (which they did at Suse's house on Mother's Day weekend as well, causing quite a few moms in town to wake that morning with massive hangovers...sorry girls, but damn they taste good!).

So a few weeks ago I received an email from the web editor for stonehill.edu...and to make a long story much longer, she was apparently desperate for alums to agree to be profiled in the alumni section of the site, so she turned to TL who sent her a list of names that eventually pointed her in my direction. So, it is not like I am all accomplished or anything, or that I am desperate for a venue to promote my resume (hello, friends....I have this blog for that, right???). But, she was nice and friendly and sounded like she needed help....but the key was that she dropped TL's name...and the lesson is this -- if you need something from me, just tell me that TL sent you.

At any rate, I answered the web gal's questions and told my stories and she sent me a proof that I then sent over to my soul brother (soul patrol!), RJP (whose blog you must bookmark, by the way...), who suggested some edits, yada yada yada. So...along with approval of the final proof, she asked that I send a photo to accompany the piece online. And I panicked...completely freaked...a PICTURE??? You mean, people were going to read this and know about me and see my face on top of it?? Well, of course they wanted to illustrate the piece....and you know I have no problem exposing myself metaphorically and photographically in this forum right here...because this blog is kind of not always very serious, and you are all my friends...and frankly, aside from being naughty, my favorite pastime of all is making a jacka** out of myself (hey, when you do something well...). But in a serious forum? Did I even have a serious picture to submit?

Ok, so...I bounce a few selections off of Rob, and he suggests that I send two and let the web gal choose. Which is what I did...and what brings me to my point in a roundabout way...I sent along the shots and only afterwards looked at the two of them side by side and, if you didn't know for certain, you might assume they were of two completely different people...sisters maybe, twins even, but not the same girl. The first is of blond tousle-haired (or JFH...you know, I am dying to decode that acronym for you as it is my preferred euphemism for messy hair, but it is a little NC-17-rated and my Daddy reads this blog....), fresh-faced, rosy skin and cheery smile Suz. The second was a darker Suz...all tan and sleek-haired, a playful wink just barely decipherable behind the smile. This web gal was going to think I was a g*ddamned lunatic (thanks YAZ!) sending shots of two separate people and I couldn't believe I hadn't seen it before I had done so. So as I sat there taking them in after the fact, all I could think was:

"Samantha Stephens and Cousin Serena"

Remember them????? Samantha, the bouncy blond heroine of that classic '60's sitcom, Bewitched, and her raven-haired cousin/sister/double/clone witch, Serena... I loved Samantha -- who didn't? I mean, aside from the fact that she was the hottest housewife in all of Salem, MA...and aside from the fact that she could clean her house and make a pie and get ready for a romantic dinner with Darren/Durwood (love that Endora!) with a twinkle of her pert little mouth, what I most envied about Samantha was the lucky fact that she had Serena, her mischievious twin cousin in her sassy hair-do, mod mini-skirts, go-go boots and little peace sign beauty mark on her left cheek. Serena was some sexy, worldly outgrowth of Samantha's id or psyche, breaking the hell out of that little suburban existence with her controlling (and patently unattractive...let's be honest) husband, her intrusive old crow of a mom and a gaggle of nosy neighbors (wait, did she live in Wyckoff...oh snap!...heehee...). Serena was free and happy and, though she may have been a bit of a brat, she was ultra cool too, right? And every time I watched Bewitched, I twinkled my nose and wished that this episode would feature the rebel clone, Serena. I so wish I had a Serena...or maybe, I am Serena...I am still mulling that one....

So, by the time Bewitched was on my radar it was 1975 and I was a little teeny tiny kindergartner (making you feel old yet??) watching '60's reruns everyday during lunch while RJ napped and my mom yapped on the phone to Millie or Aunt Annette or Mrs. Hegarty... And it wasn't just Bewitched of course, there was The Monkees too, a show that inspired my very first ever crush on the quirky Micky Dolenz (and yes, I know he lost his cuteness well before the 70's had come to a close...) and there were also the standards -- Brady Bunch, Get Smart, My Three Sons. So, as soon as I looked at my twin cousin pictures and remembered Samantha and Serena, I thought back to all of those old shows...and one after the other I remembered that on at least one episode of each series, there was a storyline featuring one of the main characters embroiled in a dilemma with a "double" of themselves.

Think about it...there was Peter Brady and that time he met the guy, who was really just him with a pair of black Woody Allen glasses on (way to commit, Brady Bunch producers!)...and I don't even fully recall the storyline...wasn't there a tag-team double date to a drive-in movie with smarmy Greg or something...I mean, this is the sh*t stupid Peter Brady could come up when stumbling upon his exact double??? No world domination? What a bad show.

And on The Monkees there was the one when cute little midget Davy Jones (who, by the way is the original uncredited genius behind the Axl Rose "Snake" dance...need proof? click away...) bumped into his doppelganger, the Prince of Peruvia...and the Prince happened to be a boring dorky introvert...and Davy came to the rescue, saving all of Peruvia, by posing as the Prince and wooing him some hot future princess bride. Oh great...woo me with Davy Jones and leave me with the dorky boring introvert...that poor pre-Diana princess of misery probably wanted to drink herself to death once she figured on the switch. But, she was the first lady of Peruvia, so maybe that was consolation enough for being duped...

And I am pretty sure Maxwell Smart doubled up at some point...but I am not so sure about the brothers on My Three Sons...but I do know that in real life two of them (Chip and Ernie) were actual brothers, so that kind of qualifies, no? Yes...that is a stretch.

So I guess meeting the "Surprise Double" was the '60's equivalent to the '80's "Very Special Episode"..."Tonight on a very special episode of Gimme A Break, the trampy older sister is hospitalized with a defective IUD..."... you know what I mean. Even my true love Pa Ingalls pulled that "very special" crap with the Sylvia r*pe episode...and we all cried with Albert when she fell off that ladder...am I right or what? So anyway, that twin thing was a ratings grabber back in the day...and it showcased that fancy newfangled camera/editing trickery that Hollywood was producing circa '62...all starting with that Patty Duke cousin/twin show, which never even made it to my early '70's rerun rotation like the others. The "twins" standing a good 5 feet apart facing one another in a room with a bland, easy to edit background...go back and look....that is the scene in every one of these aforementioned TV moments.

So anyway, back to my original point (points?)... Samantha and Serena... do we all have a little bit of both inside? You know, especially the moms and wives and professionals that we girls of the '70's have become...is that cousin/sister/double/clone just a fantasy or does she live within our souls...does she pop out randomly and show herself on camera every once in a while... I know for certain that I have that do-gooder little blond inside me who is working 9 to 5 and making dinner and tending to the garden and checking homework and scrubbing my kids' faces, dressing them perfectly in coordinating colors for the visit to Gram's house....my Samantha. And then there is my Serena...I think most of you know her even better...the snarky, flirty social butterfly...making a jacka** out of myself while dive-barring and gourmet cooking and adult toy partying and shoe-buying and fun-seeking. And both are totally real to me...both feel exactly right....which I guess is good, yes? Because I have to live with both of them and all the choices they make.

So, like I said....I decided to leave it up to the web gal to pick which shot she preferred...and I know a lot of you have already read the profile and know the real answer...but some of you don't. Am I Samantha or Serena on stonehill.edu?

Well, truth be told, the profile is all about my Samantha....but web gal got it right...the picture is my Serena...which is about spot on, I'd say...

Love you all...both sides of you... xo, Suz

Photo 1: That pitcher of my perfect margaritas is all for me...a full bottle Rob's Gosling's making an appearance too, I see...won't be full for long....

Photo 2: Serena and Samantha Rittereiser Anderson....oddly and truthfully, my Serena looks exactly like my Dad and my Samantha is my Mom's blond twin...spooky as hell...

Photos 3 & 4: 1960's fashion and beauty/homemaking icons Samantha Stephens and Cousin Serena...an inspiration to our bipolar generation...what, can't we be perfect suburban moms and wild fun-loving sexpots all at once???

Photo 5: The Monkees, that hot b*tch, Micky Dolenz, stealing Davy Jones' thunder as always...

Photo 6: Boring...snooze-fest middle son Peter Brady...even with the clone episode he's still the most forgettable of the six, more so than Jan even, no? Oh my g*d! I forgot about her double/twin episode with Imogene Coca!!! Now that was a classic!

Photo 7: Axl Rose doing "The Snake"...taking credit for Davy Jones' kickass contribution to the world of dance...could Davy have been the true master behind "November Rain" too?

Photo 8: My Three (very unattractive) Sons...that was the original title actually...

Photo 9: The perfect product of my hardworking, deeply loving inner Samantha...Ellie, Tim and Will...

Photo 10: Lyncher, Darts, Al and Welbis...out for the night with my inner and outer Serena...you know, she can be a pretty fun chick...

(Please Don't) Watch What Happens!

Last week, just days after I shared my Facebook quiz results with all of you, I noticed that my Facebook “friend” and niece, the lovely, sweet 16 Andie, had completed a questionnaire entitled “Top Five People I Would Like To Punch In the Face.” And I was all over that sh*t…I clicked right on that link and got to choosing. It was kind of too bad the survey didn’t allow me to pick from “real” people (none of you, of course...), but after this past week and some jarring moments and crises to avert and evil to shield my dear ones from, I would have had a list of no less than 25 people and things, the first 10 spots taken by one loose cannon in particular…but I digress. I am mostly a joyful person and prefer to make love and not war, but be honest, who could resist getting their ya-yas out with a simple list of five annoying public persons or groups who need a wallop or two….not me! I am from New Jersey...we never pass up a chance to virtually slug some sanctimonious fool...it's actually required by our State Constitution.... So, that said, my selections were:

1) Tom Cruise; 2) Will Smith -- my distaste for marginally talented mega-star closet cases is well-documented (sorry, ADP…).
3) Jennifer Aniston -- I can’t take that desperate publicity hound vibe that she exudes, which jumps off the pages of People every week.

4) Gwen Stefani -- to me she is some cliché Orange County pseudo skater chick gone awry…gross.

and 5) Bono -- who only slightly edged out Sting for that final spot…

I know...wanting to punch Bono is somehwat controversial... And my "friends" let me have it....I was getting comments left and right: He’s a saint! He’s a genius! He’s endlessly talented! He does so much good! He’s a role model! … Ok…most of that is true…but I kind of feel like he believes his own hype and that's why he needs a little smacking around. You know…couldn't he benefit from being taken down a notch or two with his pretentious high-and-mighty international envoy thing? I mean...well...hey Bono, I like you better when you stick to singing…

But anyway…this isn’t about me and my axes that need grinding…Back to my niece and her survey choices: Brad Pitt, Guidos, Adam Lambert (who?), Oprah Winfrey and the entire cast of High School Musical…I mean, mostly she was spot-on…well, I don't know that I'd freely admit to wanting to punch Oprah as I would fully expect the CIA to show up at my door and arrest me for slandering our national treasure...I mean, hell, she did singlehandedly pick the President, didn't she? So I'd just steer clear of her...

But the one that left me curious was Andie's number 2 selection -- “Guidos”…they deserve the number 2 spot? Really? Honestly, as a lifelong resident of New Jersey, I thought she should have developed a tolerance to our well-known indigenous breed. Oh, don’t get me wrong…I am no great fan of the fake-tanned, IRoc-driving, Seaside Heights-dwelling, Gold’s Gym juice-head, slick-haired, gold rope chain-loving, dance club-going yutzes that have given the Garden State our infamous national reputation...though they do make excellent bouncers and personal trainers... (by the way…those of you from here know that the Jersey version pales in comparison to the Boroughs-y/Long Island/Westchester Guidos…you know what I am talking about…House of Butta-fu-oco??…that Hudson River is a nice little buffer…)…but I will admit it, Guidos are generally harmless to me and my kind…(oh, my g*d, that reminds me…a couple of weeks after college graduation, Casey, Murph and I went to Belmar to visit this guy Casey had been dating and his posse of high school buddies…they had all grown up in Old Bridge, Central Jersey...aka Guido ground zero (well, outside their native land of Staten Island, that is). And though Casey’s boyfriend was the jewel in the Old Bridge crown, all preppy and cute…his friends had a little bit of that Turnpike-adjancent vibe in them…But we spent the night and had a fun time and I even smooched one of them at Bar A that night…and on the ride home in the back seat of Murph’s car, Sherelle II, dull headaches and hangovers taking hold, I broke the silence with this bon mot: “Guidos, on the whole, are nice people….”…Murph slammed on the brakes and she and Casey busted out laughing… Murph even had to pull over on Route 35 until she could contain herself enough to continue driving…but I was dead serious…at least those Old Bridge Guidos were nice people. Needless to say, that line has popped up once in a while over the years when we are all together…and yes, that was the one and ONLY time I was close enoiugh to touch a Guido…promise!). So anyway, as I said, Guidos mostly leave we ethnically bland Prepster/Yuppies alone and vice versa…well, until of course, one of theirs thinks they want to join one of our Country Clubs….then the gloves come off. But hey, we don’t try to become members of their “Social Clubs,” do we?

So I guess since Andie is still young, she hasn’t yet developed an appreciation for our Jersey Guido brethren…and their simple existence annoys and embarrasses her, and she doesn’t want her home and family and friends associated with the image…because she knows that Guidos are actually a minority in this state…they are just our flashiest citizens and the most fun to profile (hello, Paulie Walnuts…). Every area has their stereotype to live with (scrappy, drunk Irish thugs…love ya, Boston!...shallow, insipid, plasticized fembots…welcome to LA!). I mean, really, the lot of us in NJ (well, I am speaking for Bergen County here, as the rest of the State might as well be below the Mason-Dixon line, you know what I am saying…?) are cultured and savvy and educated and well-spoken and wear stylish yet classic fashions…well, most of us…and we take the Jersey abuse, because we know the truth…at least that’s the way is always was…

But….just wait, Jersey-bashers, your day is upon us.... My beloved hometown, the beautiful and pristine Franklin Lakes, is about to be taken to task…and a "real" version of our tacky Jersey Guido persona is about to be highlighted and profiled for the entire world to see. Oh yes….Franklin Lakes is the setting for the newest installment of Bravo’s hit series: The Real Housewives of …(OC, New York, Atlanta…and now, New Jersey…) and premieres this week. Holy Mother of Sh*t. Time to move!

Ok, so things have changed a little in Franklin Lakes since the childhood I lovingly recounted a few months back…. Of course over the years the idyllic little town that revolved around Kilroy’s Wonder Market and the Indian Trail Club and 11:15 Mass at Most Blessed Sacrament has benefited in some ways from its reputation and all of those high-profile residents…but it has also had some growing pains. Some of our leafy lots and wide streets have been bulldozed to fit new neighborhoods and cul-de-sacs and Double McMansions and $2 million knock-downs so that we can accommodate all the "new rich” populating the area. And there is that fleet of Escalades (white or black) with Moms sporting giant Prada sunglasses behind the wheel that have replaced the blond-bobbed, golf skirt wearing ladies in their Wagoneer "woodies" and old Mercedes sedans with college stickers filling the rear window. The Mobster vs. Prepster cold war has long been afoot and the long gone McBride brothers are spinning in their graves.... Things change…the old cliché…

But...I admit it, I am curious about this new show and the five housewifey stars...I have to see how the rest of the world will now imagine what life is like in New Jersey...and in my hometown. So, I am lucky enough to have a dear friend, Sister K, who ranks quite high at Bravo corporate...and as a treat to her special girlfriends, she scored advance copies of the first two episodes of the new series...and this past Friday night we met at her place for a private screening, each of us carrying our favorite treat...(by the way, like a pack of starving children we scarfed those cucumber sandwiches and that cheese we simply called "Crack"...yes, that addictive...). Anyway, we gathered around the flat screen, cocktails in hand and squealed at the opening sequence which seems to be an homage to the Tony Soprano drive through the Lincoln Tunnel...though this time it is one of the Jersey Housewives in a black Mercedes crossing the GWB and driving down Route 4 and Route 208...all of our local signs visible...and the piece de resistance, the "Welcome to Franklin Lakes" sign getting a full 5 second solo close-up. And of course these women are all lovable caricatures (well, except for one whom I am quite certain is certifiable...but she's from Wayne, so that says it all....) with their upscale, spruced-up Guido husbands, giant diamond rings, guilded banisters and Tuscan-themed kitchens. And my friends and I sat there, those of us with genuine Franklin Lakes history feeling a little protective and sensitive...knowing what it used to be like... But

I'll confess...I couldn't help but develop and affinity for some of these broads. They had me cracking up at their ballbusting and pointed comments...very Jersey, for sure. And that, my friends, is a sincere compliment.

So, I won't ruin any of the fun for the rest of you, but as is the show’s formula, you can all expect to see the declasse behavior, egregious wealth (one of the ladies pays for $120, 000 worth of furniture in cash...so Jersey...) and conspicuous consumption, catfights and plastic surgery, lots of tears and big hair and bad accents. Only this time the characters are a tight Jersey clan with mob ties and the backdrop will be swimming pools and tennis courts and the Market Basket. Guidos Gone Wild!

And those of us from here will just have to live with our new reality...and our new (or renewed) national image…even though we know the truth. Once the word was out about the town’s role in the show, so many of you have commiserated with me…calling and writing and lending me your ear…but also getting your digs in and saying “I am so glad I never lived in Franklin Lakes…” Now that is a laugh…we should all enjoy the blessings of living in a place like Franklin Lakes… And as I said…just like Andie and the Guidos…it is a little embarrassing to be associated with a stereotype and an aesthetic that is exaggerated and ridiculous…and I think my friends and I are more interesting in one day than these ladies will be in a whole season -- hello...who can beat a drama-filled finger-severing? anyone??? Still these folks are a part of the mosaic that makes the state of New Jersey one of the most colorful, hilarious, intriguing, rocking places on the planet. I am secure in myself…I can live with it…because these ladies may be laughable, but at least they are genuine and know exactly who they are. I think these Real Housewives will secretly warm all of our hearts with their Jersey vibe…you know it’s true…deep down, who doesn’t love a Jersey Girl?

And if you don't?....well, you know, I am more than happy to make room for you on my "list" right behind Bono....

Photo 1: The beautiful and brilliant Andie...looking for a pack of Guidos to crucify...

Photo 2: Tom Cruise and his lovah, Will Smith....kind of hard to keep my fist from planting itself right in the middle of that pic...

Photo 3: You know this is just a shot of him staring at himself in the mirror, right?

Photo 4: Some serious Guidos making the scene somewhere outside of Lodi and to the left of Clifton...

Photo 5: Bar A, Belmar, NJ...the Jersey Guido's natural habitat....you get contact 'roid rage just driving past...

Photo 6: Me and Ellie last summer...proof that real Jersey girls effortlessly rock the Vineyard Vines....

Photo 7: The Franklin Lakes clocktower....another bizarre new addition to town...

Photo 8: Actual Franklin Lakes home...just minutes before the wrecking ball takes it out to make room for a bigger one...

Photo 9: This guy lives in Franklin Lakes...Rob claims he's some national treasure or something...

Photo 10: The real Real Housewives of New Jersey....I so wouldn't want to piss off these broads...

Photo 11: Our summer backdrop: Dad's pool...

Photo 12: Gwen, Sam and me...if there were camera crews following the three of us around, forgetaboutit...Must See TV for sure!