Yesterday, I was putting the final touches on my event outfit–that is, I was pawing through my delicates drawer, looking for my Spanx–when something moved in my drawer. In my drawer that is built into the platform of my bed, so technically, something moved in my bed. Closer inspection and I screamed. It was a waterbug as long as my index finger.
I did the, “OMG! Roach!” dance and squealed, then slammed the drawer shut and got my plain tights out of another. I wasn’t going to get into a fight with a roach just before it was time to leave.
We knew the hazards of living by water, which include waterbugs/roaches, rats, neutrea, etc., but we keep the place clean and I certainly don’t leave food in my slip/stockings/spanx drawer. It was a shock and I was not happy.
When I got home, I prepared to do battle, only to find the bug was gone. This made it impossible to sleep because I knew the thing was somewhere under my bed, crawling around, looking for more slips to invade. Everytime I would drift off, I would feel something on my hand, and lurch back into wakefulness.
I need to buy some roach motels and get them under my bed. Let them check in, and never check out.
Today, I have been married for 7 years. No itching.
Renae, Karen, Lesliean and Jamie standing up for me, with Chris, Mark, Eamon and Will standing up for Bryan.
I met B at Mark’s New Year’s Eve party on December 31, 2001. We had our first date on January 24, 2002, at the now defunct Portofino, where we would have our wedding rehearsal dinner. On that date, I wore leather pants (the magical shiny ones) and a fauxnytail, and most of what I remember was the sound my leather pants made as I slid across his leather car seats, our dinner conversation (which sold me on this guy), and worrying that he was going to realize he had a handful of fake hair when he kissed me goodnight.
Since it all started with fake hair, I wore gobs of it for the wedding.
A year and five months later (after a very short breakup rooted in my religious quasi-zealotry) we were sitting in the swimming pool at my apartment complex, talking about renewing my lease. Should I renew my lease for another six months, or a year? Would Karen even want to live with me another six months, after I had nearly killed her with pine tree allergens, set the kitchen on fire a couple of times, and accidentally trapped her in her bedroom for hours while B and I made up? How much longer would I need a roommate anyway?
My lease was up at the end of August. I mentioned that our upcoming two year anniversary fell on a Saturday, and that might make it easy to remember any other anniversary dates. B agreed. I thought I had a few options: Renew for a year, renew for six months, not renew and move home for a few months? B liked the last one. And that’s how we decided to get married. B officially proposed with a ring on October 1, 2003, on the playground of his elementary school.
I don’t remember a whole lot from our wedding day, other than that my face hurt from smiling, my feet hurt from standing, and I laughed a lot. I laughed walking down the aisle because my grandmother was clawing at me from the pew. I laughed at the altar because my pastor was cracking inside jokes. I laughed during communion because the fabric of my dress made me keep sliding off the kneeler, and I was having to cling to the rail for dear life. I laughed during our ring exchange because B had drawn an X on the ring finger of his left hand, so I wouldn’t miss. I laughed because we got the wrong cake. I laughed because a flower kept popping out of my bouquet with this great, arcing, BOINK! I laughed because it was raining and the guys couldn’t desecrate the car the way they wanted. I laughed and laughed and laughed. And I’m still laughing.
Laughing and Kissing. That's how I spent my day.
I married the only man who has never bored me, and the only man I ever dated who I can happily admit is smarter than I am. I like him. He is just right for me.
I’ve sent another restaurant review over to Jewels from the Roving Stove, so in a few weeks, you can expect to find out what it was like to eat at 40 Carrots, the Bloomingdales lunch counter. That was the only meal I was really able to photograph. PJ Clarke’s was too dark, and I was getting side-eye over the flash on my camera, and I thought I would look way too Country Mouse if I started taking pictures of my crabcake at Ed’s Chowder House. Though the food at the Starlite Diner was very good, it looked pretty nasty, so I didn’t bother.
One meal I did photograph was the room service I ordered. Since a review of a room service tray doesn’t seem very interesting, I thought I would give you a full review of the hotel, so the next time you’re in the Midtown neighborhood, you know where to stay.
I noticed immediately that there was not a coffee maker in the room. That drops the place down by a whole star, because I want my coffee when I want it, and I don’t want to have to call someone to get it. Also, the coffee in the hotel was way, way, way too strong. If you know me, you know how strong that must be. It was thick even. That, my friends, was the absolute worst part of the hotel.
From check-in to check-out, we had excellent service and I was very happy.
Thor and I arrived the day before B, and got to the hotel in a flurry of excitement over getting to see Aunt Amy. Somewhere in the mix, I lost both my ID and $20. I found this out when I went to check in. No ID. Not my expired plastic license, not my paper receipt showing I had renewed my license. Nothing.
“Take your time,” said the desk clerk. “This happens to a lot of people. Don’t worry.” Surprisingly, she clearly meant this, even though there was a line behind me.
Once I was sure I had no Drivers License, I pulled out the first thing I saw. My substitute teaching ID badge. “Great,” Desk Clerk smiled. “Here are your keys. And don’t forget your cookies.”
Cookies?! Upon check-in, the hotel provides warm cookies. Thor gave this two thumbs up, or would have, had his thumbs not been busy pushing buttons on his PSP. One of the funniest things that happened was watching him walk into a closed corner of a sofa and table, and keep bouncing back and walking forward, confused as to why he wasn’t able to walk straight through, eyes on that PSP, playing Dig-Dug. Amy and I both enjoyed that one. Tired, zombie, video game boy. (He had been up since 3:30am, and it was 1pm our time by then.) We got up to our room, and Thor found a roosting place quickly.
Amy and I discovered that my view was pretty fantastic. Considering that when I stayed at the Paramount Hotel on my first trip, my window overlooked a brick wall, I was very excited to have an actual view of my cross-streets. Later on, as we waited in the room for Amy’s family to arrive, we watched the goings-on in the offices in the building across the way. There was one terrifying executive, to and from whose office people would actually run. I’m sure we could have seen the beads of flop sweat on their brows, had we thought to use the zoom on my camera. Alas. Thor stood at the window the next morning, counting yellow cabs. He stopped at 72 with an exasperated sigh, declaring he had never seen so many taxis in the world! Me either, Thor. Me either.
Our first meal in NYC was at the world famous P.J. Clarke’s (which I keep confusing with PJ O’Rourke, who is not a restaurant at all. Sorry, P.J.) where I had Irish Stew that was so good I wanted to just get inside it and roll around. I ate every scrap in my bowl. Amy had a Shepherd’s Pie that was also very tasty. Thor ordered a cheeseburger and started in on it, but then something happened. Almost mid-bite, he fell asleep. This became a running theme. Thor fell asleep at every restaurant we visited.
This is why I ended up ordering room service. My child is a great traveler, but his inner clockworks were completely off the whole time we were away on this trip.
I ordered a pot of coffee, a lemonade (for Thor), baked macaroni and cheese, and asked for chicken noodle soup as my side dish. I have to tell you that I was really pleased. Not all room service food is very good. Not all room service food arrives hot, and looking like it just left the kitchen. This tray did. And, for New York, I didn’t feel like it was ridiculously overpriced. It was just overpriced, you know?
Tasty, tasty food. Gross coffee.
So I was happy with the room service, and happy with the waiter who brought my tray. I was a little unhappy that the maid service left the open creamer jug on my dresser for three days. I was afraid to sit that in the hallway because of foot traffic, but maybe I should have gone ahead and done that? Christina will have to let me know.
After B arrived, Friday, and after family dinner (at which Thor fell asleep, see sprawling booth photo above), Amy’s eldest daughter babysat her younger sister and Thor, while the grown-ups visited the hotel bar. Aside from being 300 degrees, the drinks were good, and the seating was comfortable. The waiter did get my drink order wrong once, but I didn’t mind. When I pointed out that it had been the wrong drink, he went into a lengthy diatribe about how important it is to get what you order, when you order it. Preaching to the choir, man. He was entertaining, or I was on my third martini, so it didn’t matter to me.
I slept like a baby in the room. Comfy bed. Soft, soft sheets. Perfect pillows. For New York, it was a fairly dark room, and although we were just half a block from a busy fire station, or lust factory as Amy called it, I didn’t think it was that noisy. B did not sleep well at all. He said it was awfully noisy. I say, “Honey, it’s the lullaby of Broadway. The rumble of the subway train (just under our hotel), the rattle of the taxi…Manhattan babies don’t sleep tight, until the dawn…”
All of the staff at the hotel were kind and attentive, and I felt like they went out of their way to make my stay pleasant. They were good to Thor, and good to us. What more can you ask? The business center was well stocked and easy to use. The fitness center looked great. The food in the restaurant was basic, but not bad, and the location couldn’t have been better for us.
I would absolutely stay at that hotel again. Although, I would get my own taxi on my way to the airport. The doorman who put me in one, put me in a gypsy cab. That’s some scammery right there, but I learned. And lived, thank Cheezus!
Back from my whirlwind visit to Manhattan–and I am totally a Muppet when it comes to the taking of that city. Big eyes, doofy grin, giggling, and the at-intervals comedic gaffe. The only thing I hate worse than being laughed at, is being laughed at by a server because I have committed some social sacrilege. Only two servers laughed at me, this trip. Oh well. Only one was terribly irritated by me. (Who knew you weren’t supposed to ask for a minute to consider the menu? I’m sorry! I’ve never been here before!)
I brought a head cold home as a souvenir, that and a ridiculously expensive nightie from the Betsey Johnson collection at Bloomingdale’s. But that was the one thing I had on my agenda: Buy ridiculously expensive underwear at Bloomingdale’s.
Amy was a brilliant tour guide, feeding me at some of the best places I’ve ever been to eat. And for my belated birthday celebration, feted me at Fontainebleau Day Spa with a mani/pedi/mini-massage that left me drooling with delight (and I have a new favorite nail color: Essie’s Tomboy No More red. Gorgeous!), and lunch at Ed’s Chowder House in the Empire Hotel, across the street from Lincoln Center. Would you believe I never made it to Lincoln Center in my previous NYC experience? And ever since reading Are You There God, It’s Me, Margaret when I was 8, I’ve wanted to stand on those steps.
We also managed to get a few hours of adults-only conversation when Amy’s eldest took over babysitting duties for our wee bairn. It is the first time B and I have gotten to have drinks together in a public setting, with just another couple since Thor was born! We’re always going out one at a time, or only meeting up with groups of people in party settings–and that rarely enough–or one of us is the driver. We go out with other couples maybe once a year? Our last outing with another couple was with Karen and Jim, NYE 2009. Amy and I took advantage of the situation, and inundated B and Matt with stories of our checkered past employment.
To top of my birthday fun, Amy and I went to Tiffany’s. We did not eat breakfast at the window. No, we went shopping. Sadly, they were slap out of what we wanted to buy (read that with a thick southern accent, will you?) We had this very, Tiffany’s is not Target, ladies, moment. Pfft. No, it isn’t. Pleather coin purses at Target are only $8, and come in colors that will match my bag. Undaunted, we just watched ladies giving salesgirls a hard time, and gentlemen schlepping around their spouses’ designer dogs while the spouses shopped for jewelry. Amy snapped a shot of me trying to find a pricetag on a teacup. Honey, if you have to ask, you can’t afford it. No teacup for Lane. No teacup, and no pleather coin purse in Tiffany’s blue. Oh well. I’ll always have Bloomingdale’s!
B and I had his party Saturday night, and it was so cold I didn’t even want to get dressed to go. I ended up in 2 pairs of thick tights, the FoH version of Mormon underpants (seen here in the SkyMall magazine, which made me laugh so hard, I disturbed Thor’s PSP playing), my dress (a black and white number) under a wool sweater. I didn’t wear my foxy green dress because it was just that cold. I chose wisely. Even indoors, I was just barely comfortable. I was freezing my tuckus off when we went up to the heated rooftop portion of the party. Fortunately, the club provided red, hooded Snuggies for all guests. We looked like a scene out of Eyes Wide Shut. I threw some gang signs and mine became a Thuggie.
I love New York. I sleep like a baby there. And, since Amy is there, I love it even more.
A billion years ago, at least it feels that way, I worked for a tiny staffing agency. I had been trying to get hired on at KCM for years, but having only banking experience, I had no computer skills and could barely type 30 wpm. One of the perks of the staffing job was that I would have access to the full training database, and could build skills while I worked. I was able to learn Word, Excel, Powerpoint, and all that good stuff. Buying a PC and connecting to the internet is how I built my typing speed. Chats go fast!
This was one of those jobs where I was fortunate to have really great coworkers. I enjoyed the girls I worked with, and was always thankful that they put up with me. I used to get lost when I was delivering checks. I got so lost one day, it took me two hours to find my way back to the office. My sense of direction: Lacking. Also, they were all teensy and adorable, and very energetic, and were in their early 20s compared to my then-ancient-feeling 27/28. I always felt like a She-Hulk next to them. I was the Khloe of the office Kardashians. But they were welcoming and kind to me, and very helpful.
TJ and I were leaving an errand today, when a silver SUV rolled up, and the window came down. It was one of my coworkers! Still teeny, still adorable, still just as perky. What a lovely surprise. Really.
The Outside Lane 
