Time to Scarf the Doughnuts...

When Ellie and I were in Los Angeles I planned each day around the food we would eat that night...and this is pretty much how I plan every vacation, visit, break, weekend, whatever...I am a foodie... die hard, to the core, the type of girl that would drive 50 miles for the best, the most authentic, the most creative, the most unique gustatorial selections available...I have never denied this fact. And I believe the best way to experience another place is to eat as they do there...eat what they do there...clam chowder in New England, schnitzel in Vienna, fish and chips in Liverpool, shawarma in Beirut, street dogs in NYC...so let's put it this way, on that Left Coast trip Ellie and I completely blew off visiting the world-famous Avenue of the Stars so we could get cupcakes at Sprinkles in BevHills. So there you go. At any rate, when we were in Los Angeles we had passed a cart that was selling "churros," which are essentially Mexican crullers, long and ridged and coated with sugar...and Ellie wanted to try them...now, I almost never deny my children the opportunity to try something new, but this specific time Ellie had just scarfed all kinds of garbage at Universal Studios...you know, popcorn and soft serve and Diet Coke...and I told her that we were in LA, no doubt Ground Zero for the best Mexican food in this country, and that we would get churros at another street corner, on another day....forgetting fully that we had about 36 hours left...and we were staying in the lily white enclave of Brentwood...not a churro in sight...oh, I could have found vegan red velvet cake, at least 17 varieties of organic egg omelets and an entire grocery department dedicated to cave-aged cheeses...but no churros. And the kid wouldn't let me forget it.

So flash forward to this weekend...the lead-in to my kids' truncated spring break...a break that I, again, have fully planned around what we would eat and when and wh

ere we would be driving to get it. Oh, I am fully aware that it is gorgeous out...and the kids could be riding bikes and playing tennis or whatever, but we have our own set of priorities over this way. So, having never forgiven myself for the churros denial in LA, I decided we would kick off this week of foodie adventure on the search for East Coast churros in New York City. First I googled and found on Chowhound that churros are most available in Jackson Heights and Washington Heights and some place up in the Bronx....and without a tour guide, I wasn't going to any of those neighborhoods...but...churros are also a hipster food here in the Big City apparently, because the most raviest of rave reviews were for the foodie mecca, artisanal doughnut bakery, DoughnutPlant on the Lower East Side. This guy, this doughnut chef guy revolutionized the art of doughnutry back in the late '90's with an old family recipe that gave birth to these delicious combinations like fresh strawberry and pistachio and vanilla bean made with all natural ingredients...and they became the standard by which all other upscale doughnuts are judged. You have all had a DonutPlant doughnut with your iced latte in the past 15 years at Dean & DeLuca or Agata & Valentina and Citarella and Zabar's...or maybe that's just me, but regardless...

So, I was thrilled...churros at DoughnutPlant, who knew? And a dozen doughnuts on top of that, it's a win-win...so the plan was set...I woke Ellie at 7:30 this past Sunday morning and off we went, breezing in, barely another car in sight (thanks, beloved Blue Laws...)...joggers by the river, the sun shining bright over the GWB...in less than 30 minutes I was making a left onto East Houston Street from Thompson, heading to sweet cakey heaven on the Lower East Side. Now, I have lived here all my life...for six years just a little West of this very neighborhood...and I am down this way all the time...just last week in fact, for "Holey Thirsty" at Nancy Whiskey (so fun, btw...)...but still, I blanked on where Grand Street was...stupidly. So there I was, driving down East Houston, looking at the cross streets: Bowery, Allen, Chrystie, Forsyth, Mott...this was where I was supposed to be...but where was Grand again??? Yet as I questioned myself I continued to go straight and...(oh...whoops...sheepish giggle...), I hear myself saying: "Oh, sorry, Ellie...but by mistake I got on the Williamsburg Bridge." And she goes: "Does it go to Virginia?" and as I am thinking: it might as well...I say, "No, Brooklyn..." And the two of us sat in silence as we digested the truth...Brooklyn's great and all...lots to offer, some of my dearest besties are from there...and I bet they had churros there...but I had no clue how to get around Brooklyn, so heading away from Manhattan into the trendster borough was not on my list of things to do that day...this week...this month... And when I saw signs for Queens and the Bronx, I knew I had to abort this mission asap once we crossed this bridge...in the meantime, I was having flashbacks to walking over the Manhattan Bridge during the Avon Walk a few months ago...the subway car rattling by with a deafening rumble... Who knew this hunt for churros would become an interborough adventure??? I prayed there would be an easy U-turn once I hit Brooklyn...an easy off to the local streets, because I had no interest in traveling the BQE...I wanted a tres leches doughnut now!!!

And then...we were coming off the bridge and I threw a Hail Mary out there and took some 90 degree angled turn off of the exit ramp...and right there in front of me was a sign directing me back to the Manhattan side. So it seems I am not the only person who blindly hit Brooklyn while traveling East Houston Street in search of any variety of things delicious and naughty... Phew...we were back in Manhattan in no time and still I couldn't figure on where Grand Street crossed East Houston...oh, what's that you say? Grand doesn't cross East Houston?! Of course it doesn't!...Grand is parallel to East Houston, so I just may have ended up in Montauk waiting for it to intersect the road in front of me...what a dumba**!! Ok, ok...so thanks to a call to Rob, I turn the car in the proper direction and drive down Grand, skirting past the Chinese merchants and their bicycles and mopeds all askew, littering the narrow streets...

And in seconds I was pulling up next to our destination...at the end of a set of stores...all unassuming with it's sleek steel and black signage and handwritten specials on a blackboard perched out front on the sidewalk. "There it is!" I yell out to Ellie as I double parked and threw on the hazards -- yes, as I said I will do anything for a foodie adventure...even risk being hauled off by the towtrucks.... And so we enter the shop...about third on line (nice!) and I see churros listed on the menu hanging above the register...yay! But then...it became clear as I observed our fellow doughnut shoppers place their orders -- the varieties available that day are the varieties you see right in front of you...and all I saw was Valrhona chocolate, vanilla bean, creme brulee, banana pecan, coconut cream, tres leches (thank god!!) and blackout...a few others too, but definitely no churros in sight...I decide to block Ellie's view of the counter until we get up close, and I whisper to the girl behind it: "Do you have churros on the menu today?" She looked unsure, but stuck her head in the passageway to the kitchen and asked a group of Latino guys in white aprons...and then she turned back to me and said: "We only have churros during the summer."

NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

You have no idea how scared I was to tell Ellie...I seriously thought she would throttle me right there...like: "Mom, you woke me at 7 a.m. on a vacation day, almost lost us in Brooklyn and drove around this neighborhood for 20 extra minutes to get here...and they have no churros!?!" But she didn't...worse, she just gave me a silent grimace and shook her head, almost imperceptibly. Oops...another screw up by Mom for her to tell all her jaded teenage friends about someday. Oh well, this is the risk you take when you are on a foodie mission...sometimes they just don't have anymore of what you want...it's an important lesson to learn early, I'd say...right??? In any case...we stocked up on the sweet goodness anyway, 12 sticky, glaze-y doughnuts tied in a giant rectangle box...and I grabbed an extra vanilla bean for Ellie to eat in the car... As we exited she said: "Well if they only have churros in summer, then I suggest they take them off the menu the rest of the year..." I can't say that I disagree...

So we hopped into the car, thankfully remaining un-towed...and as I pulled back out to East Houston, this time heading West and away from the Williamsburg Bridge, I handed Ellie her vanilla bean doughnut...and it took some coaxing as she was still sulking a little about this non-starter of a churros mission (only I would sit there begging a kid to eat a doughnut, saying: "please try it, Ellie...this is an award-winning artisanal doughnut!!"...). Eventually she took it and after a few minutes she cheered back up, licking her sticky fingers and exclaiming: "This is really good, Mommy..."...which is what I wanted to hear her say all along...

So on the ride home I profusely promised to bring her back in to any one of the restaurants serving churros that her father found through google as we were making this trip (Five Points...la Boqueria....Bar Jamon...I mean, damn!...I almost got us lost in Williamsburg trying to find a place that didn't even have churros and I could have just made a brunch reservation...!!!)

"Can we go tomorrow?" she asked...

"Oh, no, honey, sorry...tomorrow we are taking Tim to Max Brenner's for the chocolate pizza..."

I told you I had the break already planned out...

Photos:

1. Ellie and I head out on an LA foodie adventure...no churros on that trip, but the Lobster Cantonese was a winner...

2. Our first LA tacos...all upscaled and out-authentified with their grilled shrimp and mango salsa...

3. Greasy, crunchy, sweet and delectable...burros on a cheap paper plate -- food of the gods...

4. A little sticky circle of perfection, DoughnutPlant's vanilla bean deliciousness...

5. The creaky Williamsburg Bridge giving me flashbacks...

6. Mecca of cakey sweetness on the Lower East Side... We're not worthy!

7. Our actual plate of doughnuts and quartered up and shared with the boys...licking the screen for another taste of that banana pecan bit of heaven...

8. Me and Ellie...always having fun, even when I am force-feeding her sweet, fatty treats... Bad Mom!

9. Our next destination, chocolate pizza on 14th Street...the object of my perfect, darling 8 year old's food fantasies...mmmmmm....

Words Are Very Necessary...

The best part about my weekend away on Longboat Key with (left to right, not including me, the shrimpy, midgety one with the crimson, sunburned nose...) Nancy, Suse and Mary, was not the flawless weather (well ok, flawless is strong...so maybe it was a tad windy that first morning on the beach...but the rest: flawless...)...and it was not the lunches on the verandah, Gulf of Mexico right in front of us, our luscious midday chicken and avocado salad chased by a refreshing Corona Light (with lime, TL)...and it was not obtaining the tan lines that we are all sporting on our clavicles, the first brush of direct sun and heat since the summertime...and it was not the festive nature of our dinners out -- mojitos and 1905 salads at Columbia...the Hess Select cabernet and montrous desserts at Euphemia Haye...and just about every component of our beautiful, succulent, savory dinner at The Beach Bistro (even the Bacon Ice Cream was a pleasant surprise...)...and it was not those two kittenish yet demure spring/summer dresses I bought at Island Pursuit, or Mary's new Tory Burch sandals, a full 50% off and on her feet as she exited the store, or the copious amounts of olive oils and balsamic vinegars we had shipped after a long delicious tasting...and it wasn't watching the orange-y/purple-y sunsets over the Gulf...or even when the sweet but daft grocery bagger asked us repeatedly if we were on college Spring Break (a pre-cursor to my return flight seatmate who guessed my age as 26 after I grabbed her hand and squeezed hard through the non-stop, petrifying turbulence...!!!)...Those were all wonderful moments for sure...memorable moments...but...

What I really loved about being away with these girls was that we never ran out of things to say to one another...on the beach, late night, at breakfast, at dinner, over wine...listening to one another...learning all about one another... You know, even though we are good friends, we still had much to say...telling the others how we met our husbands and our lifelong best friends or who we were in high school and college or our favorite food/song/drink/color/band/actor/writer...what we might have named our children had they been the opposite sex...what our prom dress looked like...how high our bangs were in the '80's (mine: not very...though I did love Zinc Pink lipstick and pegged jeans...)...what our hopes were for our children's future...where we saw ourselves a few years beyond this moment... Girl talk, I guess...fueled by sun and salt air and champagne....though I would bet that some of you guys would have been right there with us in our pjs as the clock ticked well past midnight, chattering away with abandon....you can admit it, we will still respect and adore your masculinity. So I suppose this should not be some revelation as I wax poetic upon spending time with and enjoying my friends at every turn...but the weekend sailed by...in a good way. I didn't even crack that copy of "The Six Wives of Henry, VIII"...

But even with all of that...the much needed and enjoyed respite by the sea...even so, I am happy to be home...being with my kids and seeing family and my other dear girlfriends...getting back to the celebrations at home....Easter Sunday of course, the clothes and the candy and the egg hunts and Country Club dinners. But you know me...I am looking to (this week!) Holy Thursday first...the annual celebration of dive barring and festivity in the name of Jesus and Biblical betrayal at Nancy Whiskey Pub...yay! With appearances by Sam and Cath, Stacey and KRose, RJP and his Mad Men posse...and the rest (aka the Professor and Mary Anne...)....much fun and frolic in store.

And lots more that's left to say, I bet...Can't wait!

xoxo, Suz

We're Havin' A Party...Everybody's Swingin' (...well, not like that...)

I bought 6 party dresses to choose between...I

wore none of them...instead I wore a strapless stretch cotton dress from J.Crew that has been in my closet since Spring 2000...10 years and 2 pregnancies ago. What a jacka**...I know, I know. I mean, there were issues with each of the newly purchased dresses (which were all chosen with one thought in mind -- they would showcase my shoes...the shoes...my 4-inch high, platform-toed, fuchsia-bowed, black suede, Kate Spade slingbacks...)....anyway, as I said there were issues or concerns with each of the dresses -- a little short...a little low cut...a little too "mother of the bride meets sophomore semi-formal,"... waist too loose...won't zip over bust...you name it. Anyway, I made a final choice from the purchased dress selections...a black accordion-pleated, cinched-waist, straight neckline, adjustable satin "bra" straps....and it was accentuating the exposed décolletage, I will admit...and I was a little nervous with the low-lying neckline, you know, my dad and my uncles and my nephew and my friend's husbands really didn't need to see that...but I figured: Why not? Why not try a new look?

Well...because, you may end up looking like a tragic cougar...that's why.

Ok, ok...maybe that's harsh but, whatever....it was the dress and it's padded upper half (which, sorry, I don't want or need help with...)...coupled with my hair, which had been painstakingly glazed and flattened and coiffed and shined up by Dogan...and, finally, the Channel 41 Mexican telenovela make-up job that had been professionally applied in my kitchen only minutes before I dressed... The final result: I looked like Sharon Stone as a Glamour "Don't"...And I was leaving for the party in 15 minutes...SH*T!!!!!!!!

So I scrambled to the bathroom and frantically wiped off a good portion of the powdery under-the-eye eyeliner and the blush...I applied some concealer

and some well-placed mascara...and soon, I looked like me...made-up me, glamorous me...but me... Then I tore that accordion-pleat dress off my body and began rifling through the rest of the purchased selections: No, not the one that won't zip over my bust...that won't work...and neither will the mother of the bride meets the sophomore semi-formal...mother of f**k! I am screwed!!! And then, I remember...the ten year old strapless black J.Crew number with the ruffled bodice and tasteful just-above-the-knee length...I rip through the closet and find it waiting for me, under its innocent little dry-cleaning sleeve...I put it on...Ellie zipped me up...the shoes on my feet...gorgeous, diamond drop earrings in my ears (an unbelievable surprise gift earlier in the week from my dear girlfriends...)...and the transformation was complete -- Sharon Stone -- out...Party Suz -- in...

Phew...that was a close one! A lesson learned, even at this age -- stick with the look you have cultivated...there is a reason it works...

So...I was off...headed to City Hall in Tribeca where the celebration of my birth would commence...

And what can I say, really...so many friends that I truly love were invited to be there, and most of you were...or with me in spirit... My beloved Mom and Dad, our hosts who charmed the room...and the extended family (Uncle Freddy postponing a trip to China so he could be there...now that is the kind of devotion I can get behind...)... and my inner circle and my besties and my roommates from college down from Boston and friends from town and work friends and new friends and old... And there were some my favorite gays in the house along with my young 20-something posse (Yo, Britt!), who were gracious enough to say that my friends and I made "The New 21" look really good...because, well...we do! And as always I had my oldest and dearest girlfriends there, with whom, honestly I could have the time of my life just splitting a couple of Coronas and a bag of Bachman Pretzel Rods (they are the best, don't even try to make a case for Mr. Salty...).

But instead it was a Big City party...passed hors d'oeuvres and Kir Royale and red velvet cupcakes...ADP's trusty iPod providing the playlist (Erasure!!..."I'm so in love with you/I'll be forever blue"...). And it was a whirlwind, with moments of clarity...like the flash of Mary's camera, documenting each of these moments for me with her amazing talent...and when RJP approached me and said: "Hey, nice work serving gourmet sliders on a Friday in Lent..." Oops!!! Well, I promptly checked out the slider bar, next to the seafood tower, and there was a line of badass Catholics defying their faith, sucking down the beefy goodness...so there you go...see you all in hell (can't wait!)... And, you know, there were all these sort of blind connections, false familiarity...like when my godmother, Aunt Annette, was recognizing all of you from this blog, right here...she says to me: "There's Helen!...and Suse!...Oh and Kathy too!..."...And ADP made her way over to my high school Heathers, whom she recognized from our pithy commenting while Facebooking, and she goes: "You're Sally Hur!"...and Sally was freaked out, like a deer in headlights...like, "should I know this person???"... And then Gwen told me that someone stopped her in the bathroom and said: "You're one of the besties!"....it went on like that all night....

And even though I knew who was coming I was beyond excited to see each new guest walk in...when my roommates from college arrived, I just squealed and carried on, many hugs...and the high school friends, who had taken me out earlier in the week, still I engulfed each of them as they entered the room...And then there was all the random catching up... telling my uncle how TL had dinner with someone who knew him, and she told TL: "That Freddy Ritt was crazy!!"...Freddy loved that... And my cousins, who always busted my chops for being the dreamy princess, were telling stories about my childhood clairvoyance and my age three predictions and assertions of who I knew in a former life...etc., etc... I am pretty sure I predicted a few of you back then. So I sat down here and there and slipped in and out of each little group and caught a little bit of each conversation.... You know...there were so many people I wanted to spend every minute with...but instead I bopped around and I had moments with each of my friends and family...I didn't eat a thing and I barely finished a drink, though I seemed to be clutching a champagne flute at every turn...

And then....my Dad took the stage and made a toast...

In all honesty, I cannot fully recall everything that was said because I was overwhelmed but beaming on that stage, in front of a room full of people I genuinely love all laughing and smiling back at me. So, you know...Dad proceeded to roast me a little...mock me a little (stories of my legendary poor focus on school work...the year I laughed off a bad grade, saying to my teacher: "Really, Miss Wess, let's face it...this isn't going to keep me out of college..." and Dad's punchline: "It almost did." I took the abuse like a champ, because of course he also took the moment to adore me a little...and to tell the crowd, my friends, how he sees me, how I fit in their universe, who I am in their eyes and what I have meant to them... And he brought down the house, women and men falling for him...as always...

And it was like every emory I have ever had was coming to life in that room...at every turn, someone whom I knew and loved and whose influence had impacted my life in some way. And I feel like I have been talking about this every single time I write...but it is always true...I always stand outside myself and cannot believe how blessed I have been...how many great times I have had...and the amazing people I share them with...

And truthfully, I know we are meant to be here with one another because even if I had shown up in the tragic, desperate Sharon Stone/Channel 41/Cougar look, you would have embraced me and I, you...because we are connected at the heart...and I predicted long ago that I would find you and that we would be forever friends...

xoxo

Ok...so, milestone passed...time to look ahead and move on to the next celebration...which is....

Holy Thursday dive barring at Nancy Whiskey!!

My favorite of all holidays...I mean, I have said it before and I will say it again -- when else is it appropriate to honor Jesus' death while also celebrating Sam's birthday/quasi-bachelorette party and the post work, Lenten wind-down with Cath, RJP and the Mad Men posse... So...mark your calendar, hire your sitters and take off work...Holy Thursday, April 1st...see you there (yes, I mean you Stacey...and you too, Gwen...)... Maybe for giggle I will throw on my cougar dress...if you are lucky...

Love, Suz

Photos:

1. Inviting you to witness "The New 21"...gotta keep telling myself that...

2. Sharon Stone rocking the cougar's obligatory purple mink wrap...so tasteful and age appropriate...

3. Me, in my party-wear post strip-down/scrub-fest... Ahhh...much better...

4. (left to right) Freddy Ritt, Mr. Alter, Me and Dad...my best guys (next to Will and Tim...)...

5. (left to right) Some of the Wyckoff posse: Pina, Gwen and Paul...

6. (left to right) Christina and Sally, of the High School years...

7. Dearest friend and house photog, Mary, with Me in a stunning self-portrait...my surprise diamond earrings making an appearance...

8. (left to right) More of the Wyckoff townies: Joanne, Helen, Barry, Nancy, Amber, Scott and Mike...and this was only one drink in...

9. (left to right) A collection of favorite girlfriends: TJ, Suse, Me, ADP and Helen...

10. (left to right) My girls Kathy W. and Sam...Kathy R. in background holding court...

11. (left to right) The Stonehill class of '92 contingent: Jeanne, Laurene and Susan...Jeanne and Susan my besties and roommates at the Sem and then again in Orleans A...

12. (left to right) Nancy Whiskey regulars, Big sis Cath and RJP with great friends, Eric (my mom's crush...), Me and Heidi...

13. (left to right) A few drinks in...Lisa D., SisterG and her eyelashes along with Ann...

14. Dad roasts and toasts me...I think my cheeks still hurt from smiling that hard...

15. (left to right) Oldest friends, best friends...as Stacey might say: the Wh*res on the Hill (aka the Holy Angels gang...): Stacey, Danielle, Casey, Me, BFFL Allison and Bridget...

16. (left to right) Mrs. Alter, Pat Ritt (aka Mom), ADP and Me...see, I told you I had a Mom...here she is celebrating the birth of her favorite child...

But In The End, It's Right...

Today is my birthday....my long-awaited birthday...

But, make no mistake...as I am sure you have guessed, I have been celebrating for a week already.... I mean, maybe I should say a month since there was the big birthday trip Ellie and I took to LA a few weeks back...her choice, this Left Coast city...and though London would have been my inclination, soon I warmed to the Cali concept...well, once we were invited to stay with friends in Bel Air for part of our visit...on the edge of Brentwood, that scandalous mid-90's murderous fall from grace still apparent at every turn: Bundy, Rockingham, Mezzaluna (now a Peet's Coffee, by the way...). But even so, we loved it there...we loved it, so surprising to me and my East Coast-centric suspicion of the sunny, happy Angelenos...no, no...believe it or not, I could see myself there...(shhhhhh...my Dad will never, ever speak to me again if he hears me say that...). Anyway, it was a great trip and a bonding experience for Ellie and me. Ok, so the only celeb we saw was Sara Gilbert, aka Darlene from Roseanne, stuffing her face with a bagel...and maybe I drove all the way down Sunset Boulevard from Bel Air to Silverlake pointing out every landmark along the way, not realizing she was in a dead sleep in the backseat until halfway through...and maybe when we hooked up with my high school pal, Nick, to meet his funky, cool, artsy LA posse at this hole-in-the-wall Chinese restaurant in the San Gabriel Valley, we drove around in a circle for 40 minutes trying to find the joint, exhausting Ellie to the point that she simply placed her head on the table and didn't speak until dinner was over (uh...buzzkill!)...and ok, so maybe when Ellie and I came out of the garage on Rodeo Drive she said (I sh*t you not): "Oh my gosh, Mom...it looks exactly like Ridgewood!"....So, dearest, you are telling me I flew 3,000 miles so we could shop in a touristy downtown that looks "exactly" like our very own suburban downtown...hilarious! But...we also rode the ferris wheel at Santa Monica Pier, on the edge of the Pacific...and twice we rode The Simpsons ride at Universal Studios, screeching and hysterically laughing the entire time...and we bought outfits on Beverly Drive...and we spontaneously blew off one fancy dinner reservation so that we could eat s'mores at a completely different place instead... And even with all that craziness, we had a blast...great moments...a most memorable way to celebrate our "zero" years together...

Then we came home and there was the Winter Doldrums dinner party last weekend, hosted by Teri and Charlie...a breakaway from the endless snow (finally) in the wine cellar at Brick House...friends, neighbors, drinks, food and fun...as always. And that led into this week, during which I indulged in some dress buying and salon treatments, readying for the celebrations and dinners and parties ahead...which began with an espresso chip ice cream cone on Tuesday afternoon that cheered me after a few days of feeling like I was living inside a Jewel song ("Same old story/Not much to say/Hearts are broken everyday...")...and champagne at Panevino with ADP (a year older this March 9th) and Sam -- the always friendly and gracious bartender not allowing us to order more than one drink as she felt like closing early....uh, ok....and there was the chocolate peanut butter cupcake from Just Desserts that I indulged in while ordering my birthday cake...and then, a little sashimi lunch at Sakura with a small group of my favorite friends, BFF Allison there from across the county and my 5 year old bestie and president of my pre-school fan club (she has a teddy bear named after me, enough said...), Miss Mere came along too...the best part though was when the little Japanese waiter brought out my surprise red velvet cake (Just Desserts again...) covered with candles, my friends and the entire waitstaff singing "Happy Birthday" in broken English, while the table next to us, also a group of women celebrating a birthday, jealously and sheepishly looked on as they split a brownie six ways...hahahahaha!!! I averted my eyes from the sad Piscean sister they were celebrating and secretly cackled to myself: My friends are better than your friends!!.... And then, I closed the week that night sitting at my kitchen table with TJ, sharing a bottle of pinot noir, a cheese plate and girl talk while our kids literally screamed and laughed for 4 hours straight...ending the week on a high...my last week in my thir...wait, no...my last week in my teens....

So I woke up early this past Saturday morning, a fresh, new day in the lead-in to my "The New 21" birthday week, and after catching my Tivo'd food porn fix of The Best Thing I Ever Ate (mmm...Berger's cookies from Baltimore...those fudgey bastardizations of the famed Black & White cookie of NYC...love!) and "Triple D" (eating johnnycakes with Guy in Providence, RI...that's not too far to drive...). Anyway, so after that I flipped around a little and was as pleased as punch to stumble upon Sliding Doors, that fine little cinematic masterpiece and parallel universe gem...the mid-nineties indie launchpad for the young Gwyneth...you know, before all her preachy macrobiotic crap and the yoga and buddying up with Madonna and the birth of Apple and the sanctimonious pseudo-wannabe-Brit condescension.....

Yes!!!! So psyched! I love Sliding Doors! I know, it wasn't like some masterpiece or groundbreaking work of art...it's sort of the thinking girl's version of a chick flick, I guess...but it is totally of its time and I relished the idea of becoming immersed and transported back to the mid-90's...you know, a time before I was turning The New 21, when Gwynnie ruled and I was young and new and working the Big City scene in my Gucci loafers. But aside from that, I totally love the film's concept...the whole notion that the smallest, most insignificant hits and misses in our daily existence can alter the path of our lives dramatically.

So you all know the story...Gwynnie is brown-haired, deceived and put-upon by the unfaithful live-in boyfriend in one universe and blond, heartbroken, jaded and healing with the help of the cute, fun Scottish guy in the other...and we see what would have happened to her had she made it through the subway's sliding door on that fateful day. We all know where the movie goes...the lessons she learns...how she is hurt and heartbroken but is saved. And we know how it ends up...that she eventually finds herself exactly where she should, knowing what she needs to know, finding what she is supposed to find, even though it comes with loss...and ultimately being with whom she belongs. So aside from using the movie's appearance on my TV as an excuse to loaf some more on this Saturday morning, I was thinking how perfectly timed it was for me at this moment...because as my birthday approaches, and particularly over this past year, I have been looking back at the choices I made that delivered me to this point in my life...and as always, wondering how it would have all come together had I taken a different path...or missed the subway on a fateful day...

But...

I might never have driven down Sunset Boulevard, my 10 year old girl sleepy in the backseat...or hung over the Pacific on a ferris wheel...or seen a former sitcom star scarfing breakfast on the go...or laughed and danced the Winter Doldrums away...or eaten that espresso chip ice cream cone or chocolate peanut butter cupcake... And you know, the birthday lunches and red velvet cake and girl talk and the kids screaming and playing for four hours straight...those are just the things this week that remind me to look back and own every moment and every choice...and embrace who I have become, without an ounce of regret....because to me, having regrets would be far too wasteful at this point... So...flawed or charmed as it may be, it is my very own perfect life...

And so...I will celebrate still. My parents are having a party for me this week...the youngest daughter...and I will see some of you there...and some of you will be with me in spirit (will drink one or two for you!)...and all of you will be in my heart...as always...

One year older, wiser...but still the same girl...

xoxo...Suz

PS A very Happy Birthday to Nancy, who (thankfully) is a year ahead of me, but who shares this great day...Love You, Nance!!

Photos:

1. My seventh (or "The New Three"...) birthday party at our old kitchen table on Mohawk Road in Franklin Lakes...always a pro at scarfing cupcakes apparently...

2. Celebrating warmth and freedom and being 10...Ellie on Santa Monica Beach, only a few weeks back...

3. Me and Ellie warm by the pool at Hotel Oceana, Santa Monica... Good thing I missed the boys so desperately or we may have taken up residence...

4. Ellie couldn't be happier...s'mores at Luna Park on the edge of Beverly Hills...

5. (left to right): Suse, Freddy, Tim, Pina and Colleen...some Winter Doldrums revelers...happy and festive even though there had just been a two day blizzard and over two feet of snow on the ground...

6. Miss Mere of the SisterG's...my little soulmate and future NYC roomie (just call me Aunt Sassy...)...

7. Weighed down with treats from my friends -- bouquets and gifts and a mis-marked balloon...maybe that birthday girl at the other table was turning 40...

8. Red velvet deliciousness...the first of many sweet, delicious birthday celebrations this year...

9. Berger Cookies...pure heaven...who's coming to Baltimore with me...?

10. Gwyneth, goddess of the mid-90's, in Sliding Doors...

11. This past Saturday evening, my kids and I celebrating with steaks and creamed spinach and red wine and chocolate macademia cake...and the potholder big sis, Cath, made for me...(yes, filled with irony...)

12. (left to right) Nancy, Suse, Susan, me, Amber, Gwen and Chris...Some of the inner circle, back in January...the first celebration of many that have and will follow...

Oh, We're Halfway There...or Maybe Just a Third...

We began our "New Face of Forty" spa tour sampling granola, totally buff beneath bathrobes (well, truthfully Lisa and I are far too demure to go commando...but those other hussies were all over it...)...Suse was laughing hysterically while surveying the many offerings of the bathroom bidet...warm, cool, front, back, soft, hard and, of course, blowing air... Oh yes, at Elements Spa at the Crystal Springs Resort, not one inch of your body is unattended to... And so our treatments commenced...

But let me rewind a little so I can set the scene... It was Suse's big birthday this past Monday, and as such a group of our friends converged upon Crystal Springs for a spa weekend/girlie sleepover party. There was Suse and Sistergirlfriend (aka SisterG), Lisa, leading the way...Sam and Mary riding alongside me in my Little Blue Jag replacement, the less flashy yet far more dependable, Black Equinox (wah, wah, waaaah...). Kerry and Lisa D. were only 30 minutes behind...Ellen making the scene for a manicure and some cocktails...Ann and Karen meeting us for dinner...but the award for most committed goes to Helen, who not only hit the Cub Scouts annual Blue & Gold dinner before driving up to meet us, but she didn't even take a moment to change...her brown Scout Leader shirt still in place...but looking cute as can be in it, as only Helen can. I warned her the concierge would think we hired a stripper if she walked in wearing that thing...but she still wore it...oh and we did dance, but there was no stripping...I will get to that....

Back to the beginning -- of course there were giggles and chit chat and major happenings to cover and analyze and deconstruct during the 45 minute ride into some other NJ county (where is Vernon anyway...is that Sussex?)... At any rate...we arrived at the spa, and first we lunched and then checked in at the spa, where Suse, SisterG and Sam settled in for their first appointments while Mary and I drove over to check in at the Grand Cascades Lodge, the other, newer hotel at the Resort... And wouldn't you know it? As we settled up and got our keys and tipped the bellman, four other Washington School moms, there for their own Spa Weekend, strolled by...and we all stared at one another in bewilderment, processing this odd out of context moment...eventually suggesting we catch up at dinnertime for a cocktail. So after we set up the rooms, unloaded the selection of champagne and wine and cheese and bread and chocolate and cupcakes that we brought along, Mary and I headed back to Elements, put on our flip flops and robes, and found our girls chilling out in the rosewater foot baths...

And so, my French pedicure, which includes a foot massage by tongue (just kidding...but some of you guys enjoyed the image...I know you did....) was soothing and beautifying...and my facial was rejuvenating, leaving me glossy and fresh...and the Spa granola was divine, as was the lunching and the chatting and the laughing and the being with my close friends in a serene atmosphere. But as I settled in the rosewater foot bath post facial, I checked my watch and looked around...only Mary and I remained...which could only mean that the rest of the Spa posse was already back at Grand Cascades, showering and cocktailing...they were getting a head start! Damned if I could sit still for that...I hopped out of that rosewater bath and sprinted into the changing area, where Mary was alone with the bidet (hmmmm...)...I hastily dressed, ran out to pay my bill and make an appointment for the next morning -- a Hot Stone Massage (mmm...yum...have the tingles just recalling...) -- and Mary a

nd me hopped in the car and sped back to meet our friends.

And we found Suse and SisterG hanging with our dinner guests, Ellen and Karen and Ann...and they had already cracked out the supreme brie and the sauvignon blanc and the Reese's Peanut Butter Hearts (tastes great with a dry white...)...and they were all clean and squeaky, newly washed hair...and the clock was ticking... I took a quick sip and ran to my room, where Sam was exiting the shower...I brushed my teeth and checked out my glossy skin in the mirror...and it was then that I asked myself what was more important: being on time for cocktails or sporting my steamy, scraggly, rumpled spa hair at dinner... I am a vain little b*tch at times, but there was no question...nobody minds a little spa hair now and then, as long as you are holding a champagne flute when your friends make the first toast of the night. So I jumped in the shower at lightening speed....within minutes I was all dressed in my black J. Crew ensemble and my gunmetal grey patent leather T-straps...I poufed my Spa Hair (not quite as sexy as beach hair, by the way, but tousled still...), applied the makeup and was on my merry way, 15 minutes from the time Mary and I walked in the door. It wasn't until we started taking pictures later in the night that in my haste to take part in some bubbly, I had not realized I had placed light-colored undergarments beneath an apparently see-through shirt...so enjoy the photos because I have no choice but to share and flash you all by default (my apologies...).

So anyway...we made our way to the bar at the Crystal Tavern (where SisterG and I spotted Elin Nordegren and Forest Whitaker...or maybe it was Elin's twin and some other guy who looked like Forest...)...Either way we ordered up Kir Royale all around...except for Kerry who chose the extra WASPy vodka collins (she is a Mainliner, after all...). And there were salads and dinners (kurobuta pork!) and photos and many bottles of wine...and there was a little chocolate mousse cake for Suse and the Happy Birthday song. And as we exited the Crystal Tavern we took a detour and caught up with the other group of Washington moms that had made the scene... And then, just when Helen finally arrived in her Scout Leader outfit and we squealed with delight, we heard a rumor that there was a gay wedding taking place in the ballroom around the corner....

That was all I had to hear!

Unable to contain my need to revel amongst the gays, I grabbed Sam and Helen and we hightailed it to the adjacent ballroom...hoping for cheery guests, pulsating music, a jammed dance floor, well-dressed and fabulously groomed men telling hilarious stories.... But instead, we encountered the lamest party of all time kicked into high gear... There was not a gay in sight and this was obviously some New Jersey nether-regions office party gone wrong. There was a sparsely populated dance floor anchored by an over-excited DJ spinning some tune-age by JayZ...there was the obligatory unattractive office couple pawing at one another, and the secretarial pool was dancing in a circle. In the back corner of the room there were two very bored bartenders tending the emptiest bar in history. Sam went over to said bartenders and asked if this was the gay wedding and through their laughter they cleared up what we already knew...this party was for the employees of some Cablevision office nearby. So, thinking they were following me out, I turned on my heels and went back to get the other girls...and as I did so, a woman in a red floral dress invited Sam and Helen to stay and dance....and they did.

I returned minutes later with the rest of our group and as we entered the ballroom we took in the scene -- Sam and Helen dominating the room, a group of Sweet 16 partiers alongside them...and the entire Cablevision office staff watching in stunned confusion. We ran to the dance floor and danced as a group and snapped pictures and laughed out loud as quickly as possible...because we knew that behind our backs the Cablevision team was devising a plan to oust us so that their lame bash could begin again...And the next thing we knew some waitress came over and told us to get the hell out after the song was over...and Sam goes: "we were invited!" and points to the lady in the red floral dress who was heading in our direction mouthing the words: "I'm sorry." And we are all waving her off like: "no, don't worry...it's all good...don't be sorry..." and she goes: "I really wish you could stay because my daughter is 25 too, and I love seeing girls your age having a good time..."

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!Say what?????????????

I have to say, this woman was no more than 50...and had to have been either very drunk or severely vision impaired. Or perhaps it is possible that the Cablevision radio waves had rendered the lady in the red floral dress delusional...I mean, no question my group of friends...not just the Spa Girls either, the extended group, far and wide...are an amazingly beautiful, attractive, vivacious, compelling and well-kept group of lovelies...but I can admit it, we definitely look at least 32 on our best day. Still, we didn't correct her mistake...who are we to argue with 25? You know...like I said..."The New Face of Forty."

So we moved on, and after briefly considering hitting the pub, we decided to take our conga line upstairs, get dressed in pjs and meet for a girlie gab-session on Suse and SisterG and Mary's

beds... and there we cracked open the cupcakes and the raspberry brownies and all of that chocolate and washed it all down with chardonnay as we played a game of "Questions" 80's style... you know, things like: "Which Breakfast Club character best mirrors your high school persona?"...and "What is the best " '80's one hit wonder?"...and "Purple Rain: compelling showcase of Price's groundbreaking artistry or borderline porno?"... And so we now know the group's collective favorite Journey song is "Don't Stop Believin'..." though Suse and I made a solid argument for "Open Arms"...oh the genius of Steve Perry coupled with pre-teen angst! I mean, who doesn't love a great 80's power ballad to bawl your eyes out to? It's my favorite of all pastimes...next to being naughty. Anyway...so, we questioned and answered and we giggled and chit chatted and dissected and deconstructed and told stories...finishing the night exactly as it had begun on the drive up...bonding with our favorite girlfriends.

Lucky us to have these moments together as often as we do...and lucky Suse to be celebrated and surrounded by such love and friendship for a full 24 hours...who could ask for more for a fortieth birthday, really?

Well....other than being mistaken for a 25 year old.....

xo, S

** This post written with thoughts of D.E., who needed someone...but did not think she had any girlfriends she could lean on...R.I.P.

Photos:

1. Jen Aniston, with the most powerful reps in the business selling her to us as Queen of the "New Forty..." Ok, I'll buy that...

2. SisterG, Me and Suse...devising a strategy to eek out one more day at the Spa...

3. Spa Girls: SisterG, Suse, Mary and me...all wrapped up in our Spa robes, feet in the rosewater baths, spa hair apparent...some of us in the buff underneath...

4. SisterG, Ellen, Suse, Karen and Lisa...all dressed up and draining those champagne bottles while I was still covered in rosewater...

5. Sam and Lisa patiently waiting for a refill on their Kir Royale...

6. Suse wth Scout Master Helen who is just joining the party...tell me she's not rocking out that hot brown shirt...
7. Tragic fashions and dance moves by the Sussex County Cablevision posse...you just know that's the mailroom guy and the accounts payable assistants...

8. (left to right) Kerry, Helen, Suse, Lisa, Me and my blush colored bra, SisterG, Sam and Mary...Hot b**tches on parade...Of course we could pass for 25! In Sussex County at least...

9. The girls surrounding Suse with love on her big day...

I Just Want To Fly...

I spent all day Wednesday closed inside, behind a broken garage door opener...car stuck = Suz paralyzed. Oh, and don't think I am quite so pathetic that I didn't attempt the manual release option that is provided on electronic door openers...the problem was far more complex that a little pulley/release string could cure. And of course I was handling all of this inconvenience with my signature grace and calm serenity...just about ready to b**ch-slap the next person who crossed my path...you know, totally rational as always. And I had a million things I wanted to do and a few that I needed to do...you know, get the kids to school (thanks Pina!), hit Abma's, grab an iced latte (big sis Trish to the rescue...), meet up with Kassie for a long planned and much delayed chit-chat... Instead, I took to Facebook where my friends were sympathetic and helpful, but also pointed to fate...maybe, they suggested, Jesus or God or my guides and higher spirits had put this in place, to force me to chill for a while...nowhere to go, nothing to rush to. But always I am looking to rush...to head out and escape...to meet for drinks or coffee or dinner or lunch...to be out and about. Which only reminded me....

Just last week I had to say goodbye for good to an old friend...and you know, it was difficult for me because I hate goodbyes...I always want things to end on a good note. But honestly, my relationship with said friend had broken down in recent months, though we had once been very close, particularly the past few years. You know how it is...all the bells and whistles were going off, warning lights flashing for months on end. And so, it was clear, though I tried my very best to find a way to make it work, that it would never go back to the way it once had been. So that was it....and I have replaced this old friend with someone new (you must not know 'bout me...), someone younger and in better shape...and though I miss the old days, I am better off....

But still, my darling, dearest Little Blue Jag...I wish it didn't have to end...

Yup...my Little Blue love affair is over. The poor old gal had been sputtering for months...like it was p*ssed at me for something (who isn't?). Almost overnight this Fall, the brakes became all skittish and the engine sounded like an asthmatic ninety-two year old smoker and the heat all of a sudden just quit burning...and this was after the damn thing dropped its transmission on me this summer in the middle of Long Beach Boulevard, cars whizzing by me and swerving, a group of Italian guys in wife beaters stopping traffic and pushing me onto one of those state-named streets in Peahala Park (see, folks, as I have always said: Guidos, on the whole, are nice people...) and I had her towed 92 miles back to Wyckoff Auto, spending $3,000 fixing her up...and still, she was never the same.

I know, I know...the Little Blue Jag was an inanimate object...but there were so many good times together...you know, belting the Backstreet Boys ("But we...are two worlds apart/can't reach to your heart...") on the Westside Highway...playing fake burnt-out trophy wife on the GWB...driving through harrowing summer storms along the Merritt Parkway, the Jag's ratty windshield wipers somehow holding up, precariously though, as the tornado swirled me. And then it was my Dad's pre-set stations on the Jag's radio that introduced me to Friday Night '80's on WFAS (Westchester's Best Music Variety!)...which always seemed to cheer me. But best of all were the drives to Boston, to the Cape and down The Shore (not Seaside, Snooki...), all over the tri-state and then uptown, downtown, across town, East Side, West Side...picking up, dropping off, going out, having fun...I am going to miss those days. I loved that car.

I know missing a car is kind of a pointless pursuit...but our cars house many of our moments...and symbolize something to, and about us, I think. I mean, you know who's coming at you when you see a pickup with a Confederate flag draped in the back window...or a white mini-van with the fake smashed baseball in the window and the "My child is on the Honor Roll at..." bumper sticker....or the red Ferrari, tinted windows, gold rims...you can make a judgement on every one of those drivers just by looking at his or her car...so a car can be a harbinger...letting us know what to expect from its passengers. I don't know what the Little Blue Jag said about me, but I am fine with whatever that was.

The last time I felt quite so connected to a car was back at Stonehill, my little teal 1989 Honda Accord that Annie Murphy named Marge...she was the first car that was all mine...and we spent those most impactful years of my life together...I experienced all those silly College shenanigans and early adulthood strife in Marge's driver's seat. We Orleans Girls made road trips to University of Maine and Merrimack and Loyola in Baltimore and Harvard and URI and Fordham with Marge, blasting Carly Simon's "Anticipation" ("stay right here, cause there are the good old days...") from her speakers and crying together, as we began to anticipate graduation day. And everyone knew Marge belonged to me...my sparkly teal Honda Accord parked behind Duffy. So many memories. When I moved to the Big City in the winter of 1994, I had to send Marge away for good....and I cried because I knew my next car would be an "adult" car...probably a "suburban car"...and most definitely would not know the great times we had as kids with our first taste of freedom. I could only hope that the Honda dealership resold Marge to a bright, shiny college co-ed, adding to the fun times Marge brought me. And I bet that car is still running today, over 20 years later....

But my Little Blue Jag is not being refurbished or resold to a fake burnt-out trophy wife/car singer/tornado-chasing distracted mom...No, no...that old friend truly is gone for good...

So I guess in my car-less paralysis and extra free "pondering" time on Wednesday, I found that it is the freedom a car brings to us that attaches to it a personality, a soul and a heart....because if nothing else, you can get in and go away and, even for a little while, get lost in your own thoughts...and your car is your companion, and can pretty much take you anywhere...with a soundtrack of your choosing. And there is something comforting in knowing that no matter what point you are at in life...how important your job is...how many children you have that need you...how many demands are upon you...how many people love you, want to be with you, expect your help or loyalty or devotion...there is always the freedom to hop in and be on your own...to go wherever you want to go, even for a little while...

But...even I think that the best thing about freedom -- the freedom to sing along to Friday Night '80's ("Say after me/It's no better to be safe than sorry...") at the top of your lungs while cruising the streets with nowhere to go -- is that it is so much more fantastic and fun when someone you love rides shotgun alongside you....

So....wait for me out front, I am on my way...

Photos:

1. Not my garage door, but almost an exact replica of the state of affairs when I woke this morning...

2. Me - Little Blue Jag = The Sads...

3. My dear old friend...well, one that looks like her...probably pushed into place by a gaggle of friendly Guidos...

4. My trusty Garmin perched on the Jag's window, post tornado...

5. Marge -- 1989 - 1994...RIP...is that the parking lot behind Duffy..???

6. Annie Murph, me and Heidi, on the Cape, Senior Week, 1992...delivered to the booze-fest by Marge...

7. Jeanne and I riding double in Marge's shotgun seat, toasting with keg beer the first night of sophomore year, September, 1990...

8. Driving across the sandy dunes after a day at Great Point on Nantucket, where the Nantucket Sound crosses the Atlantic Ocean...a most beautiful and remote spot, and my car got me there...