Thursday, August 27, 2009

Click Clack Moo, Cows that entertain

Holy cow, G-d bless the USDA, get dawn (sang by duck), and many more pawns kept the young and older audience entertained today at the Lucille Lortel Theatre. Tickets were free if you stood in line, so we did, for 15 min. I thought it was well worth it. We then ate at Wok to Walk on 106 University place and Guy Heksch, the owner, let us feed our less-than-healthy kids Pizza from the nearby Pizzeria. We figured we should keep on introducing healthy foods (the whole wheat noodles with vegetables dish was awesome!) but had to feed the troops before heading home. Guy was so accommodating - thanks!

Saturday, August 22, 2009

A trip to The City. I watched about 4 episodes of 'what not to wear' yesterday so I'll be dressed right for the occasion. Don't want to be caught in The City without the appropriate attire - right? or: Where are Stacy and Clinton when you need them....

The guy was very interesting, seeing hair dressing as sculpting. I was in for a treat.
The song that was rolling in my slowly melting brain (very hot, very humid, occasional showers) was Janice Joplin's "Oh lord, won't you buy me..."

Oh hairdresser, won't you cut me, a textured, cute cut
one that
looks pretty in
the morning and night?

See, when I go for a haircut it's not just the maintenance that I'm looking for, it's the treat.
Sitting on that chair flipping through all the different possibilities to beautify myself. All the best versions of myself 'till now and the endless possibilities that will soon erupt from the mind of a talented, scissorhand hairdresser.

It doesn't really matter if we come to the (almost) same result every time, its those few moments of the before, with the endless possibilities floating in my mind. Of course, I need to look like a model in the end...but it's the ride that counts.

Friday, August 21, 2009

New Jersey Bugs

My baby girl is sick again. It's been the fourth time this last month and a half. We figured there's a variety of about 6 different sicknesses and she got 4 out of the 6 so either she needs two more to "collect them all" and 'gain' the whole series, or she's getting immune. I do hope it's the latter because between all the bugs, bug spray, bug bites, bugging-each-other-while-we're-at-home, boogers, tissues and other bummers - I'm bummed!
A friend sent me this link awhile ago and I saved it. I think it's very appropriate now, so here you go:
Bugging You


Monday, August 17, 2009

Driving New Jersey

Right now, many happy Orange County residents are non-chalantly driving 40-85 mph in the nice 75 degrees, fair OC weather. Here on the Eastern front things are a bit different. We drive 25-40 in the screeching heat of 92 degrees. I wonder what they say about it on Mars.

We've been stopped recently, no ticket - thanks G-d - but the nice smiling cop warned us that 25 mph is the permitted speed in any residential area from here through NY and up Connecticut. I want to see the New Yorker who drives 25 mph. Probably cussing loudly all the way to his destination.
So all this time, when I thought people here are really old or really drank (hence their aggravating 25 mph driving speed), they were actually lawful citizens, aware of residential traffic laws and the cops behind those lovely green bushes...

At 25 miles per hour you can go brain dead. You can read a short article. you can put mascara on. Or open the mail. Text all your friends, breath slowly and get into a hypnotic state, interview for a job on the phone, meditate (maybe even float to the top of the steering wheel), consider vacation plans/wedding plans/your options plan if you're lucky enough to have one. At 25 mph your mind can get lost and find it's way back to another era, driving a buggy. And if it's hot like today you can slowly evaporate into your seat, dreaming of flies and horse shit.
Luckily we got home safely and I can type, 50 words per hour, no ticket in site.

Sorry to end this so abruptly (when you're on the 25 plan EVERYTHING is abrupt), I have to go Velcro my tires, it will help me keep from crossing the limit.

Friday, August 14, 2009

The City

So we joined the crowd of New York goers or as they say it here: we went to The City. Kind of familiar, close by, and yet o-so-important, The City.
All dressed up and packed light we waited, my son and I, in the station for our bus. Now we too, were amongst the important people who have business to attend in The City.
We went to The Jewish Museum and the Cooper Hewitt National Design Museum, ate in an Italian restaurant with more waiters-in-suits than actual diners, walked 5th and Madison, and saw all those fashionable New York dwellers going about their business as if they didn't know they lived in The City.
Now, the reason I'm telling all this is because I'm actually setting stage for the real, priceless, ever so magnificent big, great moment of the day. Are you holding on? are you in full attention? Don't take your break now, listen to this:
I got a complement from my son!
We joined a tour in the Jewish Museum, my son was participating so nicely with the docent, the other visitors thought I get a paycheck at the end. They were so smitten by him that they asked him where did he learn all this knowledge from? and so he said (hold on to your chairs, take a breath, drink some water) "My mom taught me everything I know, I owe it all to her".

Some moments are just bigger than life. They are the kind truly worth living for. They fill you with love and joy. So there, you've got something to look forward to. Beware, it will catch you when you least expect it:)

Sunday, August 9, 2009

Weekend Adventure in Grounds for Sculpture

After the big disappointment of getting to the Montclair Museum last Sunday just to find it closed without a warning on the net, yet with a small note on the door, we decided to wear our good-spirits, check on the net and by phone and travel to Grounds for Sculpture. We were up for a treat!
Grounds for Sculpture exhibits an incredible combination of the art of gardening and sculptures. They intertwine,complement and enhance each other in a way that makes you want to sing, dance and stay there forever. A little like the Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson.

Wednesday, August 5, 2009

New Place, New Hairdresser

I loved getting my hair done. It was my time. I'd sit there and read all the magazines I didn't make time for before, have my coffee in their nicely designed ceramic mugs, listen to Daren's funny stories and (this is the best part) would come out "looking like a princess" according to my my daughter... and me, too.
So when it came time to go get my hair and my soul their tune-up, I tried to be mindful of the choices.

I stalled. I asked people for referrals. I looked around in efforts to find curly heads, thinking that's the best referral. Eventually my roots showed so brightly I had to do it.
I went to the Little Towne salon, located smack dub in the center of Little Towne down town. My husband told me it looked clean, big, with healthy traffic.

The receptionist was nice, made an appointment for later (good, they're busy) and assigned me to their colorist (a specialist! how lovely).
I came at the appointed time, set at the waiting area and hooked up with a magazine, all happy and ready for a treat. The hairdresser (HD) came while on her way to bill the previous customer and consulted with me about my expectations and needs. Half way through she left me standing, attending to her previous customer. I could have left than. "Be patient" I said to myself.
She came back eventually, gave me a smock and we headed towards her station. The station and its surrounding were still full of hair cuttings from the previous client. "They'll soon clean it" I said to myself. "Think of it as a good sign, it means she's busy!" I thought.

I told HD how Daren (my California hairdresser, funny, professional, great with curls) did my highlights so she took her tufts-of-hair chart and aimed to match color.
The conversation was pleasant, no highlights (even though we talked about it), no foil, no heat, a different person had to stop her lunch to wash my hair - washing machine style, tried to erase all the shady spots from my forehead - old painter style, no scalp massage, yes arm pit and food odors.

When trying to blow dry my hair without a diffuser I decided to stop the experiment and go home to attempt it myself, especially when costs climbed to the almost-double-what-I-used-to-pay for the pleasure at Daren's.

My hair doesn't look awful but it doesn't look good either. It starts off with some spotted souvenirs on my forehead, the roots are my natural color and the rest of it is a careful weave of highlights, in memory of Daren Days.