For a warm feeling in your heart go to: Notes Inside my Head
A taste of the absurd at Nourishing Obscurity
Tips for woaca at Fabously40
Some fowl words at French Fancy
A view on British politics can be found at Ellee Seymour
Posh reigns at Dulwichmumand today she has some hysterical marriage advice
Shadow pens some red hot poetry
For a breathtaking view of the sky go here
Enjoy!
Ciao
Saturday, 27 February 2010
Thursday, 25 February 2010
A Second Chance in a New Age
I've decided a want a more adult version of my blog to discuss the brilliant and rather wonderful situation I find myself in after the unexpected turn my life took a year ago. A life filled with love, lots of sex, and more laughter than one immune system should be allowed is now my lot.
The intent here is not pornographic, but rather a frank and largely humorous discussion of sex and love when a woman, and I hope you chaps will join in, reaches a certain age - for me it is 59 years.
I am a woman who really, really enjoys sex but who before my new husband came back into my life last year had gone 13 years (yes groan please!) without it, because even as good as sex can be without love - for me, once having the two together spoiled me for the lesser stuff.
Let me be very clear because I do not wish to alienate any of my lovely readers - this is a blog for adults, moreover for adults who are comfortable with a frank discussion of sex. My intent is a discussion not a lecture, so I hope there will be many comments.
We, I believe I qualify age-wise for the "baby boomers" generation, are living longer, healthier lives, and our appetites for passion, and life do not need to wane unless we make that decision. As for me? I'm just getting started! So join me please.
The intent here is not pornographic, but rather a frank and largely humorous discussion of sex and love when a woman, and I hope you chaps will join in, reaches a certain age - for me it is 59 years.
I am a woman who really, really enjoys sex but who before my new husband came back into my life last year had gone 13 years (yes groan please!) without it, because even as good as sex can be without love - for me, once having the two together spoiled me for the lesser stuff.
Let me be very clear because I do not wish to alienate any of my lovely readers - this is a blog for adults, moreover for adults who are comfortable with a frank discussion of sex. My intent is a discussion not a lecture, so I hope there will be many comments.
We, I believe I qualify age-wise for the "baby boomers" generation, are living longer, healthier lives, and our appetites for passion, and life do not need to wane unless we make that decision. As for me? I'm just getting started! So join me please.
Wednesday, 24 February 2010
You will find the interview here - Larry King and His Holiness the Dalai Lama. Below, from CNN, is some of the content:
CNN) -- China is "denying there is a problem" between its government and Tibet, the Dalai Lama says.
In his first interview since his recent controversial meeting with President Obama, the spiritual leader of Tibet told CNN's "Larry King Live" that China claims Tibetans are "very happy ... much, much, much better than previous Tibet."
However, he noted that his Tibetan government-in-exile has received information indicating "suppression ... or restrictions" culturally and religiously of the Tibetan people.
China rejects Tibetan claims of independence or greater autonomy and claims sovereignty over the area.
But the Dalai Lama, who lives in exile in India, told King that Tibetans "are not seeking independence."
"That's why we are called middle way," he said. "We complain [about] the presence of policy in Tibet. It is actually very much damaging. ... But [on the] other hand, we also do not want separation from China because ... Tibet [is a] landlocked country, materially backward. Every Tibetan want modernized Tibet, so for that reason, [we] remain within the People's Republic of China."
The Dalai Lama met with Obama on Thursday despite strong objections from Chinese government officials. The meeting threatened to further complicate Sino-U.S. tensions, which have been rising in recent months. China warned it would damage Beijing's ties to Washington.
Beijing regards the Nobel Peace Prize laureate as a dangerous "separatist" who wishes to sever Tibet from China.
"Larry King Live"
The Dalai Lama told King he first met Obama when the future president was a young senator on the Senate Foreign Relations Committee.
He was a "very impressive, young politician then," he said of Obama.
"As soon as he become president, we had some sort of contact," he said, indicating that Obama expressed sympathy toward Tibet's plight. However, a meeting was postponed due to sensitive talks Obama was conducting with Chinese leaders.
"Now this time, despite some difficulties, we had that meeting and [it was a] very pleasant one," he said.
The Dalai Lama said he discussed three priorities during the meeting with Obama: "the promotion of human value in order to create a better world," the promotion of religious harmony and his desire for modern education for Tibetan children.
He called Obama very receptive to his priorities.
Asked whether he thinks often of his homeland, the Dalai Lama said he occasionally conjures up memories of his childhood in Tibet. But after more than 50 years in India, "my body [is] supported by Indian rice and Indian dollar," he said.
He sought to deflect attention away from his exile, saying "this is not our concern. Our concern is 6 million Tibetan people's basic rights and culture. These are our main issues."
As a Buddhist, the Dalai Lama spoke often during the interview about the concept of love and peace.
Asked whether he has love for the Chinese, he answered, "Certainly. We have to practice that." He admitted to "some irritation" with Chinese hardliners, but insisted they are "small moments."
At another site was the question that everyone knew he would be asked:
“Not everyone caught that Tiger Woods press conference last week, starting with a major spiritual leader of the faith the golfer may use to help him cope with a sex scandal.
In what was described as a "brief interview," the Dalai Lama told The Associated Press that he had never heard of Woods, who last week said he plans to explore anew the Buddhist teachings from his childhood.
When the matter was explained to the exiled Tibetan spiritual leader (who was in Beverly Hills, California, for a speech Saturday), he replied that "all religions have the same idea" about adultery.
"Whether you call it Buddhism or another religion, self-discipline, that's important," he said. "Self-discipline with awareness of consequences."
Ouch! When you have an ego the size of Mr. Woods - that had to hurt.
And finally on this subject - HIs Holiness is now twittering! I love it.
On the economic front, I ran across this sad bit of news -
Another Recession Casualty: Cuban Cigars
By CATHERINE RAMPELL
David Dennis (Creative Commons)
Cuban cigars — that quintessential emblem of high living, celebration and excess — have not weathered the downturn well, according to The Associated Press.
Cuban cigar sales fell 8 percent in 2009. The article attributes the decline primarily to a dwindling demand in Spain (the biggest market for Cuban cigars) and less international travel (and therefore, fewer sales at duty-free shops at airports).
It also probably doesn’t help that people cut back on smoking in general during recessions.
Faced with such challenges, Cuba’s state-run tobacco company is turning its sights to an untapped market: women.
As a long time lover of a good cognac and a really fine cigar to accompany it, this news saddens me. I know, I know tobacco is bad for you – but all things in moderation eh?
Ciao.
Monday, 22 February 2010
Going home...
On Friday the adorable husband slept in while I did some writing, then we did some yoga (see Monday's post), and afterwards headed down to Gramercy Tavern at 42 East 20th Street, near one of my favourite places to stay back in my single days, The Gramercy Park Hotel - albeit I understand, and from the web site it looks true, that it has been remodelled and ‘modernized’, which is a shame as its charm was in its old world décor.
I was so impressed with the floral decorations at Gramercy Travern that I asked for the name of the designer - Roberta Ben David(who is so fabulous "she's not taking new clients"). I love fresh flowers but it is so difficult to decorate a space like that without overdoing it or understating it. Our waiter, Dennis, was a charmer and entertained as well as serving us. He and the adorable husband hit it off as is shown by the fact that well into his second (perfect) martini, as I was wrapped in the cosy warmth of my second glass of 18-year-old MacAllan whiskey he said, “I bought her two glasses of the most expensive whiskey you have and I already got lucky this morning.”
Dennis, without missing a beat said, “That’s true love.”
The food was marvellous. I had the sea bass with a sauce of walnuts and something that was so good it made my toes tingle, or was that the whiskey? The adorable husband had the special - some kind of soup and the roast beef sandwich. We had the "Pumpkin Whoopie Pies" for dessert, and it was so very yummy!
After a long, relaxing, and delicious lunch we made our way over to The Strand. Wow. What fun. It would take days to give this place its proper due but I managed to find a couple of Science Fiction novels I wanted and a Stephen King book that I’ve been meaning to get to, along with some of the canvas bags that Q told us are all the rage (a dated phrase for sure) now in New York City. “Oh yes, some people leave their Kelly bag at home and use the Strand’s canvas bag to show they are ‘cool’.” So now I’m set even though I’ve never understood the rules for ‘cool’. I want a couple of days to dive into their Military History section that Q had already scoped out for me.
Back at the hotel we did some more yoga then the adorable husband had a nap while I packed. He hates to pack. Saturday morning J went down for café while I got ready to go back to Texas. By eight thirty we were in the taxi headed for La Guardia and much to our surprise the same four ministers (see 14 February) that accompanied us from Houston to NYC were returning on the same flight in the same seats! Fred, the minister seated by me, and I continued our conversation recalling memories of Britain – everything from old television shows (I’m more conversant in BBC than American television) like Are You Being Served? to Dame Judi Dench’s old show that ran for ages – As Time Goes By; to our mutual enjoyment of Science Fiction – he actually knew who E.E. ‘Doc’ Smith was and knew of The Lensman Series; and I know who Dr. Who was, and is at present.
Landing in Houston we needed the a/c on the ride home – ug. We both apparently had the post-vacation let down, as I, after unpacking, couldn’t keep my eyes open and the adorable husband slept in Sunday morning before going out for cafe' as it is no longer served downstairs.
It was a grand week and I will be happy to go again next year. Meanwhile back at home, the refrigerator has died. It was ill before we left and I was looking for Consumer Reports advice on what to buy; now speed is imperative.
Larry King is interviewing HIs Holiness the Dalai Lama tonight.
Ciao
I was so impressed with the floral decorations at Gramercy Travern that I asked for the name of the designer - Roberta Ben David(who is so fabulous "she's not taking new clients"). I love fresh flowers but it is so difficult to decorate a space like that without overdoing it or understating it. Our waiter, Dennis, was a charmer and entertained as well as serving us. He and the adorable husband hit it off as is shown by the fact that well into his second (perfect) martini, as I was wrapped in the cosy warmth of my second glass of 18-year-old MacAllan whiskey he said, “I bought her two glasses of the most expensive whiskey you have and I already got lucky this morning.”
Dennis, without missing a beat said, “That’s true love.”
The food was marvellous. I had the sea bass with a sauce of walnuts and something that was so good it made my toes tingle, or was that the whiskey? The adorable husband had the special - some kind of soup and the roast beef sandwich. We had the "Pumpkin Whoopie Pies" for dessert, and it was so very yummy!
After a long, relaxing, and delicious lunch we made our way over to The Strand. Wow. What fun. It would take days to give this place its proper due but I managed to find a couple of Science Fiction novels I wanted and a Stephen King book that I’ve been meaning to get to, along with some of the canvas bags that Q told us are all the rage (a dated phrase for sure) now in New York City. “Oh yes, some people leave their Kelly bag at home and use the Strand’s canvas bag to show they are ‘cool’.” So now I’m set even though I’ve never understood the rules for ‘cool’. I want a couple of days to dive into their Military History section that Q had already scoped out for me.
Back at the hotel we did some more yoga then the adorable husband had a nap while I packed. He hates to pack. Saturday morning J went down for café while I got ready to go back to Texas. By eight thirty we were in the taxi headed for La Guardia and much to our surprise the same four ministers (see 14 February) that accompanied us from Houston to NYC were returning on the same flight in the same seats! Fred, the minister seated by me, and I continued our conversation recalling memories of Britain – everything from old television shows (I’m more conversant in BBC than American television) like Are You Being Served? to Dame Judi Dench’s old show that ran for ages – As Time Goes By; to our mutual enjoyment of Science Fiction – he actually knew who E.E. ‘Doc’ Smith was and knew of The Lensman Series; and I know who Dr. Who was, and is at present.
Landing in Houston we needed the a/c on the ride home – ug. We both apparently had the post-vacation let down, as I, after unpacking, couldn’t keep my eyes open and the adorable husband slept in Sunday morning before going out for cafe' as it is no longer served downstairs.
It was a grand week and I will be happy to go again next year. Meanwhile back at home, the refrigerator has died. It was ill before we left and I was looking for Consumer Reports advice on what to buy; now speed is imperative.
Larry King is interviewing HIs Holiness the Dalai Lama tonight.
Ciao
Sunday, 21 February 2010
NYC Photographs
The adorable husband with his "Fashion Week" stance and scowl...
The window on the Park Avenue side
The restaurant inside the church
The door open and welcoming
The entrance to St. Bart's
The sign outside St. Bart's
The adorable husband as Lord McLeod, lord of the manor...
Friday, 19 February 2010
The Plaza, books, museums, and food - oh my!
Wednesday began with Q meeting me at the hotel, and from there we window shopped down 5th Avenue stopping into Yves St. Laurent to have a close up look at a stunning electric purple sheath and shoes – just yummy. Q who is now adding seamstress to her roster of skills (already a chef of family and friends renown) was examining the seams…. There was a stunning python trench but we agreed that neither of us would be able to wear it (she used to have snakes as pets (I know!) and pythons are endangered, as well they skin them while still alive), but it was an eye-catcher.
We were looking for a place for brunch as we had walked right past the breakfast hour and ba da bing – there’s the Plaza Hotel sitting in her sartorial elegance – always a good choice. We had a lovely time in the downstairs hotel restaurant with wonderful views of both the inside of the hotel and the outside passersby – brilliant people watching. The food was of course wonderful and the service – well it’s the Plaza isn’t it?
Afterwards we walked off our indulgence (they had melt in your mouth breads and pastry) by making our way on foot up to 87th Street and the Met. The adorable husband was off to a matinee of Noel Coward's Present Laughter starring Victor Garber, which he said later he quite enjoyed.
Two exhibits in particular I wanted to see were the Chinese Carved Lacquer and the Jain Manuscript Paintings. Both were as expected – breathtaking. As usual we made our way through the Egyptian exhibits (the spot Q normally gets stuck) where we explored the Temple of Dendur showing off some 1800’s graffiti as well as the impressive Temple gates, and an intricately carved sarcophagus.
Also a good day for the soon-to-be sixty year old’s ego. As we were making our way from the Egyptian exhibit on the first floor to the Chinese Lacquer exhibit on the third floor, Q pulled me closer to say, “The young, rather good looking museum attendant back there came over to me when your back was turned looking at the Temple and ask, ‘Is that your mother?’ You know at first when he pointed you out I thought he was going to ask me to tell you something like to lean back from the sarcophagus, but it was much more like he was checking to see so that if you weren’t my mother it would be alright to hit on you. Since people never assume you are my mother I think he was hoping you were an older friend, or aunt – apparently that would have given him a clear field but the fact you are my mother meant you are married or it would have been bad manners.
Then as we were leaving the coat check after having a bit of French with the lovely Haitian chap handing us our hats she said, “I’m beginning to feel ugly.”
“What? Why do you say that?”
“The guy back there? What he said to you was, ‘You must tell your mother that she is magnificent’, you know c'est magnifique!! '. So you can tell J that you got hit on twice at the museum!”
I think I stood a little straighter on the way out she said smiling smugly. And later Q took great delight in telling the adorable husband the story in detail, along with according to her “all the other times I’ve felt like saying, ‘So what am I chopped liver?” She’s very kind to her old mum, and quite beautiful in her own right.
Oh a non sequitur but I don’t want to forget to tell you, and I’m going to try to remember to take my camera out there before we leave… The Anglican (which explains why it was some difficult for me to determine the denomination) church of St. Bart’s at 325 Park Avenue has a sign out front that states: “Have something different for lunch? Eucharist at …” and it list the hours! We did a double take the first time to be sure it was saying what we thought it was saying and it does! I went to their website to get the link for you and clicked on their mission statement which I really liked:
“Located at 325 Park Avenue between 50th and 51st Street in the heart of Manhattan, St. Bartholomew’s Church is a faithful community of Christians... who WELCOME ALL to this sacred oasis whose urban outreach is buzzing with life 24/7. A Manhattan crossroads and one of New York’s treasured landmarks, we passionately serve our city and the larger world, opening our portals unconditionally to all. Become part of who we are, through our daily cultural community offerings, beautiful music and powerful inspirational worship services.
Every day of the year we worship God, serving not only our own membership of nearly 4,000 but also thousands others—Christians, fellow believers of other faiths, and many who are seeking God, truth or a spiritual center for themselves.
We think of our sacred space as a gift—something bequeathed to us by our forbears but a gift we know we are called to share with others. Our members and visitors come from the whole New York metropolitan area, from other parts of the country and as tourists and pilgrims from around the world. We practice what St. Benedict taught his monks and their households: “All guests who present themselves are to be welcomed as Christ” (Rule of Benedict 53:1).
We met Q “below 14th Street” at 116 Avenue C to have dinner at the Serbian Kafana restaurant she had recommended to us for dinner. "The adorable husband is a meat eater right? He's going to like this place I think."
I knew it was authentic when I walked through the door framing these two burly types all bundled up sitting at the bar facing each other in lively conversation – I was transported back to Serbia ten years ago to a eerily similar scene. It was confirmed when we walked in and it was the chaps at the bar who said, “Oh yeah just sit anywhere you like.” The waitress reappeared a few minutes later having been out on an errand. It is a family run restaurant, small and cozy – very clean. Our service was warm and friendly right down to giving Q the recipe for the sausage. We were the only native English speakers in the room, also a good sign.
We had Ćevapčići with chopped onion, beef burgers, sausages, pork chops, and grilled meat, which are on the menu of every restaurant in Serbia, from Vojvodina to the south. And the supreme pleasure in grill definitely is mixed meat - mixture of several grilled meat specialties, which are best when absolutely fresh and hot from the grill as these most certainly were.
The real Serbian dish, which cannot be found on any menu in the world, is kajmak. Kajmak is what you take off the milk to make it low fat, and is considered the best part of the milk. Yes, it is full of milk fat, but it's delicious. This is one of the oldest specialties from this region.
Smoked meat, hot pogača (homemade bread), and kajmak.
Sarma, "pasulj"(beans made the Serbian way), were almost creamy, and served with more of the heavily spiced and delicious sausage. I am not a big meat eater and I think I just may have had my quota for this year.
Real homemade Serbian cherry pie, very good after a big meal, was enjoyed by Q and the adorable husband. I was stuffed but did have a bite and it’s delicious. If you survive all this, at the end of each meal you definitely must drink good Turkish, actually Serbian coffee, since the Turks prepare coffee differently.
At eight o’clock we were seated in the Gerald Schoenfeld Theatre for the Premier production of ‘A Behanding In Spokane’. You know how frightening Christopher Walken is on film, he is scarier on stage. He doesn’t even have to speak. The first three or four minutes he just sat there – and it was spooky.
The playwright, Martin McDonagh, has a penchant for black comedy and that promise was fulfilled in this play. The adorable husband is a fan of his work and attends his plays whenever possible; but this was my first introduction to Mr. McDonagh.
Carmichael (Christopher Walken) has been searching for his missing left hand for almost half a century. Mix in two bickering lovebirds (Anthony Mackie and Zoe Kazan) (granddauger of Elia Kazan) with a hand to sell, and a hotel clerk (Sam Rockwell) who is loopy as a fruitcake, throw in some gunfire, a large case full of dismembered hands, and a racist mother (Mrs. Carmichael) chasing a balloon up a tree and you’re set. Get the picture? You’re right; you had to be there.
It was so funny. It was so funny. Really, it was so funny. From “You can’t have black hillbillies” to “You looked through them all (porn magazines)? Congratulations Ma now you’re a lesbian”. But you had to be there.
All of the actors delivered excellent performances. The play is 90 minutes without a break and you never once get antsy in your seat because your attention is riveted on the stage lest you miss one great line.
On Thursday the papers are running articles concerning the delayed (bowed to political pressure from the Chinese) meeting between President Obama and His Holiness the Dalai Lama. (about time said the prickly Buddhist) but I’m not happy with the “low key” approach President Obama decided to take. Makes the U.S. look weak bending to the Chinese if you ask me, but we all know what my bias is and I’m sure it affects my world view.
We left the (continuing great service) Waldorf around 0930hrs Thursday to pick up Q and had a car take us to the Cloisters. Q was able to show off her Old French by reading the tapestries to us (some of them have captions!) and recounting some of the history of the period. The adorable husband is taken with the tapestries which he wanted me to see since I do needlework and I enjoyed them, but for me the fascination lay in the building itself. The stones are steeped in history and I can almost hear the whispers of past ladies sitting at their embroidery in one of the courtyards discussing their children,politics, and marriage; and lords pacing the halls or in front of the fireplace planning the next year's crops or the defense of their lands and bitching about taxes, their children, worrying about disease... much the same as us but without computers and flush toilets eh? I was surprised and pleased to see the number of mothers with children there. I'm very big on children in museums; how else will they grow to be adults in museums?
Q left last night on the train back to Philadelphia after we stuffed her full of wine and good Italian food at the great little restaurant we discovered. I miss having her about every day, but you know what that's like. They grow up and have their own lives, as it should be. She remains as much a delight to me as an adult as she was when a toddler.
Today is our last day. No plays today. After some morning - yoga - the adorable husband has plans to take me downtown to the Strand with the understanding that I can’t take all the books home and we will most likely be shipping them due to the pricey increase on airline transporting of luggage. Q had planned to go shopping on Tuesday afternoon after her meeting at NYU – some new boots, some dress material she had her eye on, perhaps some new trousers. When we met her for dinner she was lugging a large bag full of books from The Strand. “Oh yeah she’s your daughter all right,” said the adorable husband. Apparently The Strand boasts 18 miles! of books she said rubbing her hands together in anticipation and delight.
Then we shall likely stroll down to Washington Square and have a look see around that area. I’ll let you know eh?
Back to Houston tomorrow and I have (bleck) doctor appointments both Monday and Tuesday - just check-up stuff but I do so hate going to the doctor. I've agreed (because he still thinks he can 'fix' them) to see one more neurologist for the adorable husband - this one thinks I may be having some sort of seizure activity associated with the migraine so he's doing a sleep deprived EEG. Doesn't that sound fun? Ug. It's difficult to complain too much when it's because someone loves you and I know that it is so much more difficult to watch someone you love in pain that it is to be the one having the pain so I will do it.
It’s been a grand week and I expect today to be filled with delight as well. I’ll give you a recap on Sunday then shall I?
Ciao
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We were looking for a place for brunch as we had walked right past the breakfast hour and ba da bing – there’s the Plaza Hotel sitting in her sartorial elegance – always a good choice. We had a lovely time in the downstairs hotel restaurant with wonderful views of both the inside of the hotel and the outside passersby – brilliant people watching. The food was of course wonderful and the service – well it’s the Plaza isn’t it?
Afterwards we walked off our indulgence (they had melt in your mouth breads and pastry) by making our way on foot up to 87th Street and the Met. The adorable husband was off to a matinee of Noel Coward's Present Laughter starring Victor Garber, which he said later he quite enjoyed.
Two exhibits in particular I wanted to see were the Chinese Carved Lacquer and the Jain Manuscript Paintings. Both were as expected – breathtaking. As usual we made our way through the Egyptian exhibits (the spot Q normally gets stuck) where we explored the Temple of Dendur showing off some 1800’s graffiti as well as the impressive Temple gates, and an intricately carved sarcophagus.
Also a good day for the soon-to-be sixty year old’s ego. As we were making our way from the Egyptian exhibit on the first floor to the Chinese Lacquer exhibit on the third floor, Q pulled me closer to say, “The young, rather good looking museum attendant back there came over to me when your back was turned looking at the Temple and ask, ‘Is that your mother?’ You know at first when he pointed you out I thought he was going to ask me to tell you something like to lean back from the sarcophagus, but it was much more like he was checking to see so that if you weren’t my mother it would be alright to hit on you. Since people never assume you are my mother I think he was hoping you were an older friend, or aunt – apparently that would have given him a clear field but the fact you are my mother meant you are married or it would have been bad manners.
Then as we were leaving the coat check after having a bit of French with the lovely Haitian chap handing us our hats she said, “I’m beginning to feel ugly.”
“What? Why do you say that?”
“The guy back there? What he said to you was, ‘You must tell your mother that she is magnificent’, you know c'est magnifique!! '. So you can tell J that you got hit on twice at the museum!”
I think I stood a little straighter on the way out she said smiling smugly. And later Q took great delight in telling the adorable husband the story in detail, along with according to her “all the other times I’ve felt like saying, ‘So what am I chopped liver?” She’s very kind to her old mum, and quite beautiful in her own right.
Oh a non sequitur but I don’t want to forget to tell you, and I’m going to try to remember to take my camera out there before we leave… The Anglican (which explains why it was some difficult for me to determine the denomination) church of St. Bart’s at 325 Park Avenue has a sign out front that states: “Have something different for lunch? Eucharist at …” and it list the hours! We did a double take the first time to be sure it was saying what we thought it was saying and it does! I went to their website to get the link for you and clicked on their mission statement which I really liked:
“Located at 325 Park Avenue between 50th and 51st Street in the heart of Manhattan, St. Bartholomew’s Church is a faithful community of Christians... who WELCOME ALL to this sacred oasis whose urban outreach is buzzing with life 24/7. A Manhattan crossroads and one of New York’s treasured landmarks, we passionately serve our city and the larger world, opening our portals unconditionally to all. Become part of who we are, through our daily cultural community offerings, beautiful music and powerful inspirational worship services.
Every day of the year we worship God, serving not only our own membership of nearly 4,000 but also thousands others—Christians, fellow believers of other faiths, and many who are seeking God, truth or a spiritual center for themselves.
We think of our sacred space as a gift—something bequeathed to us by our forbears but a gift we know we are called to share with others. Our members and visitors come from the whole New York metropolitan area, from other parts of the country and as tourists and pilgrims from around the world. We practice what St. Benedict taught his monks and their households: “All guests who present themselves are to be welcomed as Christ” (Rule of Benedict 53:1).
We met Q “below 14th Street” at 116 Avenue C to have dinner at the Serbian Kafana restaurant she had recommended to us for dinner. "The adorable husband is a meat eater right? He's going to like this place I think."
I knew it was authentic when I walked through the door framing these two burly types all bundled up sitting at the bar facing each other in lively conversation – I was transported back to Serbia ten years ago to a eerily similar scene. It was confirmed when we walked in and it was the chaps at the bar who said, “Oh yeah just sit anywhere you like.” The waitress reappeared a few minutes later having been out on an errand. It is a family run restaurant, small and cozy – very clean. Our service was warm and friendly right down to giving Q the recipe for the sausage. We were the only native English speakers in the room, also a good sign.
We had Ćevapčići with chopped onion, beef burgers, sausages, pork chops, and grilled meat, which are on the menu of every restaurant in Serbia, from Vojvodina to the south. And the supreme pleasure in grill definitely is mixed meat - mixture of several grilled meat specialties, which are best when absolutely fresh and hot from the grill as these most certainly were.
The real Serbian dish, which cannot be found on any menu in the world, is kajmak. Kajmak is what you take off the milk to make it low fat, and is considered the best part of the milk. Yes, it is full of milk fat, but it's delicious. This is one of the oldest specialties from this region.
Smoked meat, hot pogača (homemade bread), and kajmak.
Sarma, "pasulj"(beans made the Serbian way), were almost creamy, and served with more of the heavily spiced and delicious sausage. I am not a big meat eater and I think I just may have had my quota for this year.
Real homemade Serbian cherry pie, very good after a big meal, was enjoyed by Q and the adorable husband. I was stuffed but did have a bite and it’s delicious. If you survive all this, at the end of each meal you definitely must drink good Turkish, actually Serbian coffee, since the Turks prepare coffee differently.
At eight o’clock we were seated in the Gerald Schoenfeld Theatre for the Premier production of ‘A Behanding In Spokane’. You know how frightening Christopher Walken is on film, he is scarier on stage. He doesn’t even have to speak. The first three or four minutes he just sat there – and it was spooky.
The playwright, Martin McDonagh, has a penchant for black comedy and that promise was fulfilled in this play. The adorable husband is a fan of his work and attends his plays whenever possible; but this was my first introduction to Mr. McDonagh.
Carmichael (Christopher Walken) has been searching for his missing left hand for almost half a century. Mix in two bickering lovebirds (Anthony Mackie and Zoe Kazan) (granddauger of Elia Kazan) with a hand to sell, and a hotel clerk (Sam Rockwell) who is loopy as a fruitcake, throw in some gunfire, a large case full of dismembered hands, and a racist mother (Mrs. Carmichael) chasing a balloon up a tree and you’re set. Get the picture? You’re right; you had to be there.
It was so funny. It was so funny. Really, it was so funny. From “You can’t have black hillbillies” to “You looked through them all (porn magazines)? Congratulations Ma now you’re a lesbian”. But you had to be there.
All of the actors delivered excellent performances. The play is 90 minutes without a break and you never once get antsy in your seat because your attention is riveted on the stage lest you miss one great line.
On Thursday the papers are running articles concerning the delayed (bowed to political pressure from the Chinese) meeting between President Obama and His Holiness the Dalai Lama. (about time said the prickly Buddhist) but I’m not happy with the “low key” approach President Obama decided to take. Makes the U.S. look weak bending to the Chinese if you ask me, but we all know what my bias is and I’m sure it affects my world view.
We left the (continuing great service) Waldorf around 0930hrs Thursday to pick up Q and had a car take us to the Cloisters. Q was able to show off her Old French by reading the tapestries to us (some of them have captions!) and recounting some of the history of the period. The adorable husband is taken with the tapestries which he wanted me to see since I do needlework and I enjoyed them, but for me the fascination lay in the building itself. The stones are steeped in history and I can almost hear the whispers of past ladies sitting at their embroidery in one of the courtyards discussing their children,politics, and marriage; and lords pacing the halls or in front of the fireplace planning the next year's crops or the defense of their lands and bitching about taxes, their children, worrying about disease... much the same as us but without computers and flush toilets eh? I was surprised and pleased to see the number of mothers with children there. I'm very big on children in museums; how else will they grow to be adults in museums?
Q left last night on the train back to Philadelphia after we stuffed her full of wine and good Italian food at the great little restaurant we discovered. I miss having her about every day, but you know what that's like. They grow up and have their own lives, as it should be. She remains as much a delight to me as an adult as she was when a toddler.
Today is our last day. No plays today. After some morning - yoga - the adorable husband has plans to take me downtown to the Strand with the understanding that I can’t take all the books home and we will most likely be shipping them due to the pricey increase on airline transporting of luggage. Q had planned to go shopping on Tuesday afternoon after her meeting at NYU – some new boots, some dress material she had her eye on, perhaps some new trousers. When we met her for dinner she was lugging a large bag full of books from The Strand. “Oh yeah she’s your daughter all right,” said the adorable husband. Apparently The Strand boasts 18 miles! of books she said rubbing her hands together in anticipation and delight.
Then we shall likely stroll down to Washington Square and have a look see around that area. I’ll let you know eh?
Back to Houston tomorrow and I have (bleck) doctor appointments both Monday and Tuesday - just check-up stuff but I do so hate going to the doctor. I've agreed (because he still thinks he can 'fix' them) to see one more neurologist for the adorable husband - this one thinks I may be having some sort of seizure activity associated with the migraine so he's doing a sleep deprived EEG. Doesn't that sound fun? Ug. It's difficult to complain too much when it's because someone loves you and I know that it is so much more difficult to watch someone you love in pain that it is to be the one having the pain so I will do it.
It’s been a grand week and I expect today to be filled with delight as well. I’ll give you a recap on Sunday then shall I?
Ciao
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Wednesday, 17 February 2010
Disappointment and Delight
On Monday it was time for walk about in the fun shopping areas of New York City, obtain that missing link (story coming up), and try once again to watch the skaters do their stuff at the Wollman Rink. It went well and …. funny.
Charm: An object, act, or saying believed to have magic power
• an object kept or worn to ward off evil and bring good luck
A few months after our reunion in Paris I found myself walking through Tiffany’s, as I often do simply for the pleasure of it, and spotted a display of their charm bracelets and a sampling of the available charms. I found it delightful, like wearing memories on your arm – touch one and you are transported back to the event or time. I have never really considered myself to be a ‘charm bracelet’ sort of woman, if I ever gave it any thought at all - proven by later conversations with Q and J.
“I think I would really like a charm bracelet from Tiffany’s.”
“Really, I would not have thought you would care for a charm bracelet.”
“I know! Neither did I but there you are…”
On the first anniversary of our marriage I was sent on a delightful and romantic treasure hunt (no one is surprised I like those!) complete with a stack of clues that sent me all about our house, and at the discovery point of each rhyme was a small turquoise box tied with a white satin ribbon – the unmistakable sight that shouts “Tiffany’s!”. J had bought me the charm bracelet and filled it with tiny physical manifestations of our time in Paris, representations of private jokes we share, and a few that just say ‘me’. I love it and wear it all the time.
So it was that on Valentine’s Day the item he had been so carefully hiding because just the sight of that little box would have given it away, held the world – literally. A tiny, perfect, replica of the earth and a reminder of all the years I have spent trekking it.
But alas it had been packaged in the perfect little blue pouch without the extra link needed to attach it to the bracelet. Oh no what tragedy! This means we HAVE to go to Tiffany’s while in New York City. OH too bad, but if we must I suppose I can drag…(are we laughing out loud yet?) myself there…
And so it was on Monday we found ourselves in the middle of one of the most fun places on earth – oh boy it was sparkly on the first floor! And of course lickedy split and with gracious service as always, the link was provided, and the charm attached. Sigh. I love Tiffany’s – and boyo it was packed with shoppers.
Next was Central Park, which is still buried quite deep in the snow, as are the pathways once you are into the park, just like a postcard. It was all lovely – again packed with people.
J loves to watch the skaters at Wollman Rink in the Park. Let me restate that, the adorable husband would love to watch the skaters in Wollman Rink if only they would skate while he is there! Last year just as we arrived at the rink, the skaters were called off and the Zamboni came on. When it was done the skaters still did not return as the rink was closed but for private lessons – not what he wanted to see.
As we rounded the curve in the path on this day we could see the pond through the bare branches of the trees and over the small river where the ducks were congregated in great numbers to make the most of the two chaps throwing bread bits out onto the surface for them. It was full of holiday skaters bundled up and circling nonstop. We could hear their shouts of delight and surprise as some twirled and some fell.
“Ah the curse is broken just look at all the… uh oh… is that what I think it is?”
“Yes damn it, the Hoffman curse strikes again! I can’t believe it!”
As we approached the front side of the pond and crossed the elevated area over the bleachers and benches for the skaters to lace up we could see the Zamboni begin its appointed rounds.
“Perhaps they will let the skaters back on after it’s done?” I said hopefully.
“No, look they are putting out the cones to mark off the areas for lessons. It’s happening again. I’m never going to see the skaters on the pond.”
“We could watch the skaters taking lessons…”
“It’s not the same.” He sighed as we took of leave. Another year of disappointment and the legend of the curse grows.. Exit music please maestro, and off we went back into the park.
After the park we made our way back toward the hotel and over to The Emery for a pre-theatre dinner and it did not disappoint. I had a crispy and perfectly seasoned Caesar salad with melt in the mouth grilled chicken sliced and to the side in such quantity I had to fork over half of it to J. He had the chicken soup, which he pronounced delicious, and sliders, which are mini cheeseburgers with shoestring fries. It was all so well done it took the chill right out of us.
I never thought to use the next sentence as it’s as bad as if I were to say the movie was better than the book but..I liked the movie better than the stage production of Chicago. It was such a disappointment. It had a lot of energy, and incredible bodies, sculpted along the lines of Michelango's David, and impressive technical expertise but no heart! Who wants to sit through two to three hours of dance numbers and singing with no soul, no story? We were both so disappointed. J has not seen the film but all the things he found missing in the play – a story, characters you could connect with, someone to root for – all that I found in the film. I couldn’t believe it.
In no way due to the show (it wasn’t that bad, and it doesn’t work that way) I had a bad but not deadly migraine and was out of it just as snow began to fall…
On Tuesday…
Sadie, a Scottish terrier, captured the coveted ‘Best in Show’ title at the Westminster Dog Show that’s on now in town.
For us it was lazy stay in bed, watch movies, read your book, and for J long naps day as I recovered from the Migraine Monster.
Q came up from Philadelphia as she has a couple of meetings at NYU with her doctorate advisors this week and is going to be our very well informed guide to the Cloisters on Thursday. She came over through the snow mush that was both on the ground and in the air by Tuesday afternoon – it was a great day for staying inside – and we took her out to dinner then sent her off to bed after her long day.
We were then rewarded and compensated for all our disappointment from the night before. Billy Elliot! Where do I begin with the over the top adjectives? It was brilliant! It tugged at your heart and left us cheering. It was visually stunning and the energy and sheer joy pouring off the stage into the audience left us both staggering and energized. Wow is such an understatement.
Billy Elliot is actually based on the original film: director Stephen Daldry, choreographer Peter Darling and writer Lee Hall. The actors change up but Michael Dameski played Billy, Trevor Braun played Michael the brother, and Philip Whitchurch as the Dad with Kate Hennig as Mrs. Wilkinson, Billy’s teacher.
The story is about a boy from the mining towns of England, set during the heartbreaking strike of 1984, who wants to dance the ballet – not box as his Dad had hoped.
The cast, aside from the lead actors, is full of one delightful surprise after the other, from the hysterically funny and totally adorable young man who plays Billy’s best friend to the magic feet of the pudgy piano player employed by Mrs. Wilkinson.
We were smiling five minutes in and grinning ear to ear as we left, our hands sore from banging them together in some small token of appreciation for the delightful evening. I can’t recommend this musical highly enough. As it garnered 10 Tony awards I am apparently not alone in my judgment.
After that we barely noticed (but we did) the rather distinct plummet the temperature had taken when the snow clouds moved out as we were watching the show; it did speed our walk home.
I’m looking forward to some mother-daughter time together with Q today as the adorable husband takes himself off to a matinee. We are having breakfast together then off to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. J and I have a premier to attend this evening so I must get tarted up a bit for that eh?
Ciao.
Charm: An object, act, or saying believed to have magic power
• an object kept or worn to ward off evil and bring good luck
A few months after our reunion in Paris I found myself walking through Tiffany’s, as I often do simply for the pleasure of it, and spotted a display of their charm bracelets and a sampling of the available charms. I found it delightful, like wearing memories on your arm – touch one and you are transported back to the event or time. I have never really considered myself to be a ‘charm bracelet’ sort of woman, if I ever gave it any thought at all - proven by later conversations with Q and J.
“I think I would really like a charm bracelet from Tiffany’s.”
“Really, I would not have thought you would care for a charm bracelet.”
“I know! Neither did I but there you are…”
On the first anniversary of our marriage I was sent on a delightful and romantic treasure hunt (no one is surprised I like those!) complete with a stack of clues that sent me all about our house, and at the discovery point of each rhyme was a small turquoise box tied with a white satin ribbon – the unmistakable sight that shouts “Tiffany’s!”. J had bought me the charm bracelet and filled it with tiny physical manifestations of our time in Paris, representations of private jokes we share, and a few that just say ‘me’. I love it and wear it all the time.
So it was that on Valentine’s Day the item he had been so carefully hiding because just the sight of that little box would have given it away, held the world – literally. A tiny, perfect, replica of the earth and a reminder of all the years I have spent trekking it.
But alas it had been packaged in the perfect little blue pouch without the extra link needed to attach it to the bracelet. Oh no what tragedy! This means we HAVE to go to Tiffany’s while in New York City. OH too bad, but if we must I suppose I can drag…(are we laughing out loud yet?) myself there…
And so it was on Monday we found ourselves in the middle of one of the most fun places on earth – oh boy it was sparkly on the first floor! And of course lickedy split and with gracious service as always, the link was provided, and the charm attached. Sigh. I love Tiffany’s – and boyo it was packed with shoppers.
Next was Central Park, which is still buried quite deep in the snow, as are the pathways once you are into the park, just like a postcard. It was all lovely – again packed with people.
J loves to watch the skaters at Wollman Rink in the Park. Let me restate that, the adorable husband would love to watch the skaters in Wollman Rink if only they would skate while he is there! Last year just as we arrived at the rink, the skaters were called off and the Zamboni came on. When it was done the skaters still did not return as the rink was closed but for private lessons – not what he wanted to see.
As we rounded the curve in the path on this day we could see the pond through the bare branches of the trees and over the small river where the ducks were congregated in great numbers to make the most of the two chaps throwing bread bits out onto the surface for them. It was full of holiday skaters bundled up and circling nonstop. We could hear their shouts of delight and surprise as some twirled and some fell.
“Ah the curse is broken just look at all the… uh oh… is that what I think it is?”
“Yes damn it, the Hoffman curse strikes again! I can’t believe it!”
As we approached the front side of the pond and crossed the elevated area over the bleachers and benches for the skaters to lace up we could see the Zamboni begin its appointed rounds.
“Perhaps they will let the skaters back on after it’s done?” I said hopefully.
“No, look they are putting out the cones to mark off the areas for lessons. It’s happening again. I’m never going to see the skaters on the pond.”
“We could watch the skaters taking lessons…”
“It’s not the same.” He sighed as we took of leave. Another year of disappointment and the legend of the curse grows.. Exit music please maestro, and off we went back into the park.
After the park we made our way back toward the hotel and over to The Emery for a pre-theatre dinner and it did not disappoint. I had a crispy and perfectly seasoned Caesar salad with melt in the mouth grilled chicken sliced and to the side in such quantity I had to fork over half of it to J. He had the chicken soup, which he pronounced delicious, and sliders, which are mini cheeseburgers with shoestring fries. It was all so well done it took the chill right out of us.
I never thought to use the next sentence as it’s as bad as if I were to say the movie was better than the book but..I liked the movie better than the stage production of Chicago. It was such a disappointment. It had a lot of energy, and incredible bodies, sculpted along the lines of Michelango's David, and impressive technical expertise but no heart! Who wants to sit through two to three hours of dance numbers and singing with no soul, no story? We were both so disappointed. J has not seen the film but all the things he found missing in the play – a story, characters you could connect with, someone to root for – all that I found in the film. I couldn’t believe it.
In no way due to the show (it wasn’t that bad, and it doesn’t work that way) I had a bad but not deadly migraine and was out of it just as snow began to fall…
On Tuesday…
Sadie, a Scottish terrier, captured the coveted ‘Best in Show’ title at the Westminster Dog Show that’s on now in town.
For us it was lazy stay in bed, watch movies, read your book, and for J long naps day as I recovered from the Migraine Monster.
Q came up from Philadelphia as she has a couple of meetings at NYU with her doctorate advisors this week and is going to be our very well informed guide to the Cloisters on Thursday. She came over through the snow mush that was both on the ground and in the air by Tuesday afternoon – it was a great day for staying inside – and we took her out to dinner then sent her off to bed after her long day.
We were then rewarded and compensated for all our disappointment from the night before. Billy Elliot! Where do I begin with the over the top adjectives? It was brilliant! It tugged at your heart and left us cheering. It was visually stunning and the energy and sheer joy pouring off the stage into the audience left us both staggering and energized. Wow is such an understatement.
Billy Elliot is actually based on the original film: director Stephen Daldry, choreographer Peter Darling and writer Lee Hall. The actors change up but Michael Dameski played Billy, Trevor Braun played Michael the brother, and Philip Whitchurch as the Dad with Kate Hennig as Mrs. Wilkinson, Billy’s teacher.
The story is about a boy from the mining towns of England, set during the heartbreaking strike of 1984, who wants to dance the ballet – not box as his Dad had hoped.
The cast, aside from the lead actors, is full of one delightful surprise after the other, from the hysterically funny and totally adorable young man who plays Billy’s best friend to the magic feet of the pudgy piano player employed by Mrs. Wilkinson.
We were smiling five minutes in and grinning ear to ear as we left, our hands sore from banging them together in some small token of appreciation for the delightful evening. I can’t recommend this musical highly enough. As it garnered 10 Tony awards I am apparently not alone in my judgment.
After that we barely noticed (but we did) the rather distinct plummet the temperature had taken when the snow clouds moved out as we were watching the show; it did speed our walk home.
I’m looking forward to some mother-daughter time together with Q today as the adorable husband takes himself off to a matinee. We are having breakfast together then off to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. J and I have a premier to attend this evening so I must get tarted up a bit for that eh?
Ciao.
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