So Long Solar Nails

When I was down in Tallahassee visiting my sister, my mom treated me to some solar nails. What are they you ask? Well they are fake-a-roo nails- that is - acrylic nails, gel clomped on top of your real nails. They last about a month until the nails grows out so much they start to look insane and they have to be refilled. You look like you've had a french manicure.  My sister had solar nails and was going on about how excellent they were. She and my mom agreed that my nails were egregious and that I needed nail help big time.

Ok, they may need a little help

So off we went to see Helen who according to my sister is a genius.  Helen is from Vietnam and though her English is spotty (while I was there she mostly spoke choppy, incomprehensible words in her confident no-nonsense manner to other staff who sidled up to the station to chit chat with her), she is slick and styling, has cool solar nails herself, and runs a large, well lit, swanky salon in a strip mall.  It is a family operation and her husband works there too, giving pedicures and manicures and the works. Other guys too.  Guys can do that stuff.  Who knew?  I was pretty impressed. Mom gave Helen a $15 tip and I gave Helen a hug.

Here is how my hands looked with the solar nails:

Note the pearls. They don't come with the nails but are there to show if you get solar nails you will get pearls too.

I have to admit my nails looked pretty great. C'mon look at them. Ok those are not "my' nails but they looked just like that.  Plus they were so "sleeky" smooth. I got into the habit of admiring them multiple times an hour and also running them along my lips for the tactile sensation. It was comforting.  So all was good until somehow, (don't even ask), I sliced through one nail and it was part on, part off.  This was bad, Rose. (A la Titanic, when Jack is handcuffed in the basement and the water is threatening to drown him). But it had been almost about a month since installation and they needed refilling anyways. So I called up a family run nail place that had been recommended to me and asked if I could get an emergency appointment. The exchange went something like this:

Not Helen: Don't need appointment-you come-we fit you in.

Me:  Really?  Awesome. Is there a time I should come that's better? 

Not Helen: No. Come anytime -we fit you in.
When I got there- (a dingy, small place that had construction paper on the windows blocking the inside from the out--also in a strip mall) Not Helen asked:  "Have you been here before? "Me: (And looking back on it, I'm now pretty sure this was the wrong answer): "No."
NH: "We no can help you. We short staff and people waiting." There were two women getting manicures and one or maybe two women waiting.  I don't know for sure. She was already walking away from me.

Me:  WHAAAATTTT??? (That part was inside my head.) "Well can you tell me how long I would have to wait?"

NH: We can't help you today.
Me:  But I called and you said you would fit me in. 

NH: We fit you in if we have no other customers.

Do you mind! That is not what "fit you in" means!
I was not happy at all, not one little bit. This SN gig was wearing on my nerves.  I managed to yank the balance of the acrylic off myself so it didn't look so weird. Nine solar nails and counting.

A couple of days later I was out in another part of town I had to drive to--buying shoes with Al, (it's a thing we do, yes) and I stumbled upon another nail place (and this was in a strip mall too- I'm starting to see the pattern). I wandered in and asked the little Asian man sitting at the cash if they could fix my solars. He offered me a seat (right at the cash- it had a whitish towel on the counter sill and some supplies there) and commenced a-working.  Weird and maybe not so hygienic but I was game.  Again I could barely understand what he said other than his wife worked there too and his daughter had moved back home and he was mad about it. There was a slightly different procedure and the white parts were decidedly thicker (true, I had assented by nodding when he asked me something) but they were back to scratch. Later that day I dropped a winter hat box on the same nail that had been totally repaired and it came right off. I decided to live with it.

I kept up with the nails even though they had started growing out, chipping and lifting up. I may be a bit hard on my nails- even my fake ones.  A couple of days ago, I'd had enough. I did some world wide web research, bought a bucket of salon strength acetone and started the hideous process of removing these solars. It took about 2 hours and they are still not completely off but my hands were getting beat up-- red, itchy and dry so I had to stop.  I have my nails back. They are shorty, stubby, weak as kittens, have bleeding hang nails, swollen cuticles and cracked tops but they are real and they don't require salon maintenance.  Of course I will miss the Asian cultural part - that was interesting.

PS. I ran this post by Mr. Lovely who suggested it might offend some ethnic sensibilities- which I hope is not the case as I strive not to offend- but to be descriptive (and funny).  I welcome your comments on that or anything really.

Note to Self -Unclutter Your World (Start with your Desk)

As a lawyer, I, and my clients, have to sign a vast amount of documents- Transfers, Charges, Acknowledgements, Last Wills and Testaments, Powers of Attorneys, Directions, yada yada yada, caveat emptor, fiduciary, res ipsa loquitur.. er...you know- a whole host of very important and interesting legal stuff. So as a lawyer I need to make sure that I have good working pens on hand. These are the pens that I have on my desk that I can easily access when I need them:

Yessir yessir- 2 (bags) full- easy to grab

This is the inside of the top drawer of my desk:

Pens yes and also bracelets, bandaids, tide to go, comb, white out, bank receipt, elastics, pencils, note about hotel in Sicily(hot tip from a client), stress release fish, highlighter, stapler remover, post it notes, napkin, scissors, gum wrappers

Do you mind? I'm not even kidding.

Ya well if I believed in New Years Resolutions- (although maybe it is too late- it is Jan. 12 for crying out loud) one would be to clean out my drawer.  Happily, I don't, so I that's why I have stuff in there from over a year ago.  As Frances Ha, in the quirky, life affirming Noah Baumbach film of the same name, says "I'm not messy- I'm busy." Whatever.

But seriously, every once in a while I think it is a good idea to unclutter your world- it tidies your mind and makes your environment more workable and pleasant. It does take energy and I have to admit that sometimes I have to bootstrap it but I always feel satisfied, even proud afterwards. I don't have to resolve to do it- I just have to do it........... tomorrow!

New Year's Eve Lonely Heart

Why is New Year"s Eve one of those nights that has significance- I mean it's just a night- why is it built up into a big deal?

I guess on these so called "significant" days, like our birthday, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years eve, Saturdays (kidding on this one), we are supposed to step back and ponder the significance of our lives-what we have been doing and what we hope to accomplish in the coming year.  Or, I'm not sure we are supposed to, but I do. I also tend to reminisce about previous birthdays, Thanksgivings, Christmases or New Years eves- I think because it is a natural thing to do (right?) and also I guess also to see if things have improved.

So this morning when I was doing my power walk/run (running- not so much on account of bum knee, iron poor blood, snow flurries and ridiculously icy wind) I was reminded of a New Year's eve I had when I was about 17.

I remember it was icy cold,(it were the icy cold that jogged my memory this morning), and my brother, Howard, who is 18 months my junior and his two best friends at the time, Lorne and Jeff and I were in Sainte- Agathe -des- Monts, a small town in the Laurentians in northern Quebec. I'm not sure how we got into town.  Lorne and Jeff, or rather their parents, had winterized cottages about 20 minutes away by car, so I don't know if we drove in or were dropped off or what. But the real question is not how, but WHY? Why indeed! Like I said, it was freezing cold- (the wind she blow blow blow) and it was dark, on account of it being eve in the winter.  I was 17 so the boys must have been 16 and none of us could legally get a drink in a bar, even in Quebec. We had a mickey of something- southern comfort or some such rot, which we were passing between us. We also were too poor and cheap to go and eat in a restaurant, so we were just walking around aimlessly. I don't know why I was with them- I guess I had nothing to do so they said come along. I knew Lorne and Jeff sort of like brothers- we had grown up and spent the last 10 summers at the lake together. At one point or another during the last few years we, (and by that I mean the individuals in our small group of friends- about 4 or 5 girls and 4 or 5 guys) were sort of "romantically" and I use that word loosely, involved with each other in various couples, (and at that time all heterosexually, though today I'm sure we would have experimented with "bi" because that is what the cool kids do),because we are all coming of age, geographically isolated in the summer, and learning about sexuality, alcohol and marijuana, so it was a natural thing, right? So I had fooled around with both of them in a pretty innocent, "making out", sort of way (but not together-  that would be kinky).

But really it was the guys who were good friends and they were undeniably and incorrigibly juvenile and immature (ya both dammit). They were laughing, playing with each other- skidding around on the icy streets, making farting noises, and getting drunk. But not drunk enough to take an interest in me. In fact I remember feeling blue, not just cause of the lack of circulation, but because I felt like such a loser.  It was so cold and black and miserable and there was nowhere to go and nothing to do.  I wanted to have a fun and interesting New Years Eve- cause NYE was a big deal and if your NYE went ok it meant things were ok and you were ok and normal and all, so-I wanted somebody -not my brother- do you mind! but one of the guys- Lorne or Jeff to hold hands with me, or walk with his arm around me and act like my boyfriend. I wanted a kiss on NYE as a minimum.

But it didn't happen. And I remember thinking- I could spin it as fun and cool to the outside world but I would know the truth. That I had nothing to do on NYE- and I had to hang out with my younger brother and his buddies, neither of whom was my boyfriend or even date, in the cold and dark and I didn't even get a kiss. I was a New Year's Eve Lonely Heart.

And even though tonight, Mr. Lovely and I will soon be going out for a New Years eve dinner with a group of very close friends and we will be inside (and hence warm) drink champagne, laugh and joke and ring in the New Year together and I believe I will get a kiss (I think Mr. Lovely will oblige), I look back on that NYE with a sadness and a longing- for my youth, for my innocence and naivete, for the edge, for the heartache and my resilience, and know that even though things are better in many ways that there was something bittersweet and important about that experience. It was sort of a big deal.

A Chicago Christmas Tale

A couple of years ago Meg and Phil couldn't come home for Christmas. They were just starting their clinical rotations in Chicago and had to work on Christmas day but had a few days off before that so we, ( Mr. L, Al , Ed & I) decided make the 7&1/2 hour trek to the windy city so we could all be together. If Mohammed won't go to the mountain, the mountain must come to Mohammed and all that. They lived in a dodgy part of town in an apartment complex that looked like it would make the perfect set for a murder thriller. I'm not even kidding. The elevator mostly didn't work and so you had to take the stairs which were dimly lit, (when lit) and had some wire fencing around the walls- don't ask me why.  I ran the whole time I was in the stairwell, thinking this could be my last run ever.  We met the owner of the apartment outside the building and he asked who we were and what we were doing there.  Do you mind? Who wants to know? But he actually wanted to help us cause he told us that we were ok ( meaning we would probably live) if we went out of the building and turned right. "Left is Afghanistan, man".  No, we did not want to go left- that's for darn sure. One day we decided to go for an outside run by the lake- right once out of the building. Here we are pre- run:

We're just trying to fit in, man, just trying to blend

Tempted as I was, I have held back on making this photo our family Christmas card. (Plus Phil was taking the shot and he would need to be in it.) Since we were all staying in the apartment and were saving a bunch on accommodation (and rest on account of the creepiness of the place), for a treat, I used Hotwire and got us 3 rooms in a downtown Chicago hotel for the night of Dec 23. We also went out for a vegan meal at Karyn's on Green which served crazy "fude" like fake "crab" cake sliders and "chicken" legs made out of seitan or almond butter. It was really freaky but delicious. Phil and his buddy, Eugene, who joined us for dinner had  enzymes- shots of digestive dietary supplements (ya vegan med students- kooky).

On Christmas eve morning, Al was still on the hunt for his secret Santa present. We do a secret Santa as our Christmas present giving one each, our then 9 year old friend E, (she is now 11 and still doing this for us, thanks E)- picked names out of a hat and emailed them to each of us -$25.00 max. The idea was to "get" the other person in approximately that amount of money. All of us almost always had to spend a  bit more but the aim was to keep it small.

So off we went- out on the streets of Chicago first thing on Dec 24. It was a sunny, crisp morning and I was feeling euphoric, having had a good night's sleep cause I wasn't ascared of getting murdered and as as we cut across Millennium Park to get to the shopping area, the air had a truly magical quality. We were passing the Bean - awesome and it wasn't tourist town. Wow- what a place to have Christmas. I had  wanted to get the family some famous Garrett's gourmet popcorn, (they now ship to Canada, btw- so happy days!) but wasn't quite sure where the store was- so Al and I were sort of rambling. It was pretty cool to be out somewhere new, urban, seeing different people, getting a new perspective on life at a time when we are normally so quiet, traditional and comfortable. There were Santas on many corners, ringing bells, lots of people out an about, big department stores with fanastical displays. A couple of neat things happened- by chance we found Garrett's- it was empty when we went in-not a soul in the place and by the time I had ordered and was paying for the multiple bags of popcorn- it was full- jammed up with people in line behind me and out the door. Where did these people come from?And so fast and quiet. Al said it was like being on the Trueman show with the extras coming late. Also Al and I went to Macy's- a beautiful 6 storey building with awnings and all the trimmings- it was so pretty and full of Christmas hoopla- music, lights, decorations, that I was delighted and wanted to experience it more fully.  A full crowd was waiting for the elevator and Al was the last to get in and everybody except him had turned around to face the door and he said " Now that I have your attention" as though he had summoned them there. Everybody cracked up and there was this easy goodwill between strangers sharing a joke on the morning before Christmas. Great stuff.

That Christmas eve we had a vegetarian meal round a bridge table and my secret Santa present was Mabel (of the Mabeldoyoumind). My secret Santa got me for sure. Knew just what I wanted and needed.

Sally and Mabel

So you you see where I'm going. Tradition is excellent and comforting but so is spicing it up and trying something different. You only live once and who knows- a change in perspective could be refreshing even on Christmas.

The McQueen/Fassbender Combination of Despair.

I love Michael Fassbender:

Michael in leather.

and I love Steve McQueeen, the writer/director- that is- this guy:

Steve in a bow-tie

(not to be confused with Steve McQueen, the "King of Cool" actor- this guy):

Cool & handsome, yeah, but also quite dead

ok- back on track- do you mind!

and I love Steve and Michael together:

Steve and Michael laughing- I'm thinking not during one of their films

Why you ask?

McQueen has written or co written and directed 3 films, Hunger (2008) Shame (2011) and 12 Years a Slave (2013) which are all are excellent, brutal to watch and all star Michael Fassbender. Coincidence? I think not. Not that Fassbender is brutal to watch- quite the contrary, but the subject matters are hard core -definitely not for the faint of heart. And Fassbender can deliver.

Hunger is a dramatisation of the true story of Bobby Sands, an IRA volunteer and elected MP, who participated in the no wash protest (it didn't go well) and led the IRA hunger strike (which eventually led to his death so also didn't go so well for him) in the Maze Prison in 1981. The Republican prisoners were trying to regain their political status when it was revoked by the British government. Lots of guard sadism and ruthlessness -so that's tough and watching a man die of starvation (Fassbender lost 40 pounds on a diet of nuts, berries and sardines (yuck) to do the film because he said otherwise it wouldn't be realistic - and oh it was, trust you me) was downright heart wrenching.

Shame is the fictional story of a sex addict, Brandon who is a handsome ad executive living an alienated and unconnected life in New York city and whose life is gets even more twisted and bizarre when his younger sister, Sissy, a messed up needy woman, played by Carrey Mulligan comes to visit. They are both struggling and in pain and because of the stellar acting, so are we. The cinematography is fantastic- and the story gruelling- we watch the unravelling of Brandon and it aint pretty. On the up side - there is the full frontal nudity of Fassbender (I say why not-it's just a human body- a lovely one at that- so no, I don't mind at all) but then the most lugubrious and mournful rendition of "New York New York" there ever has been, sung by Sissy in a New York nightclub- it is a version that makes you want to gnaw your arm off.

12 Years a Slave is also based on a true story about Solomon Northup who was a free man living in New York when he gets lured to Washington and then kidnapped and sold into slavery.  Again superb acting, brilliant nature shots which juxtapose the gorgeous scenery with the human cruelty and injustice, and what seems like accurate data, unflinching retold, make you want to weep.

Why am I telling you about these 3 film when they are obviously so emotionally fraught? It is because of that very thing.  My life is too antiseptic, comfortable and banal and I like being jolted off my couch and complacency by seeing the true grit of existence. It makes me sad, yes. But it also makes me think and maybe I need to get sad and I definitely need to think about the human condition- so for me this type of viewing is essential. You might want to give it a go.

Tallahasse Chow Down!

My sister and her husband Harry, live in Tallahassee which is the capital of Florida and is inland. I still find it hard to get my head around living inland in Florida but that's where the capital is and my sister (let's call her Joanne cause her name is Joanne) is Staff Director for the Florida House of Representatives Appropriations Committee. Sounds high falutin and it is- she is very talented and very hard working. She worked for Jeb Bush when he was the governor but that is a whole other story.  Her hours are insane when the House is in session which is from January to May, every year. So it is often difficult to get together with her since our busy work times are reversed. Or to put it another way "she" is off-kilter. She misses us (can you blame her?) and has been encouraging me & Mr. L to visit her relatively-new house (though it may be 2 years old) by telling me I will have my own deluxe room (ok, I thought that was a given) and an ensuite bathroom (YES that is the ticket- I love an ensuite not having one at home).  As my Mom (who also lives in Florida, in North Palm Beach which is 7 driving hours away) was going to visit my sister for Thanksgiving, Mr. L and I decided to  fly down so we could see everybody in one fell swoop. My sister is, (as are Harry and my Mom) a ton of fun so good times (and food as you will see below) are ahead! Joanne is heavy into food preparation mode.  She has been texting to our cell phone - and since it does belong to Mr. L, they had an exchange come ca:

DAY 1

John, I am going to make you fantastic waffles from scratch one morning! Was going to call this weekend but was really sick. Better now. What else should I cook for you guys ? Brisket? Apple pie, quiche, bread pudding, pan seared salmon?

Mr. L:

My emotions are all over the place.  Sorry to hear you were sick, but so happy about the waffles.  Brisket would be yummy, and I can easily join in Harry’s  joy about bread pudding.  Easily.

Joanne :

Done deal! I will also get some quality sausage to go with those waffles. And the brisket will be served in a bed of mashed potatoes, whipped with heavy cream of course.

Mr. L:

You know how to live!

Joanne:

And some candied carrots ( to make it all healthy).

DAY2

Joanne:

Splurged on some good wine for us!

Me:

B here (so she would know it was me)  Yay! What did you get?

Joanne :

Wine.

Me:

What wine?

I knew it was wine- you said that!

Joanne:

I know, just being silly. Chalk hill 2010 estate red, 92 point rating.

Me:

Yum! I just bought a flask for drinking while walking!

Joanne :

Time for some self examination?

Me:

Nah. You?

Joanne:

No, I don't drink and walk.

Me:

  I don't either..... Yet.

It's cold up here- a shot of booze helps keep ya going.

McCabe and Mrs Miller!

Joanne:

??? Who??

Me:

Robert Altman movie- Warren Beatty dies in the snow. I don't want that to happen to me!

Joanne:

No, for sure not. I am also making fab meat sauce for lasagna for when you are here. Lots of red pepper, mushroom. Lasagna will feature smoked provolone and whole milk ricotta.

It's bubbling now-- The meat sauce that is.

Me:

Whoa sounds hot hot hot! Do you use hot pepper?

Joanne :

No the red pepper is sweet, not hot. But there is hot Italian sausage in there (and ground beef a course).

Me:

Sounds fab. Cook on McDuff!

Joanne:

Bought apples for Apple pie too and other good stuff.

Me:

Yeesh, I'm going to have to start dieting now. 

DAY 3:

Joanne :

Gianormous 40 lbs 5 cheese lasagna prepped and in freezer for next weekend.... Check.

Me:

Yikes- 40 pounds!!!  DO YOU MIND!! Are you insane? I"ll answer that - yes. There are only 5 of us.

Joanne :

Ok, well I didn't weigh it...but it's big, meaty and cheesy!

Me:

Ya like I said I'm commencing to diet immediately.

Joanne:

Good idea.  And no whining while you are down here. And I will feed my brother-in- law as I see fit....meaning a lot. You starve the poor boy.

And so it goes. The last part is so not true. Mr. L eats what he wants but, man, is he going to be over the moon to have my sister feed him.

P.S. Mom just called me to see if I wanted her to buy me coffee at Costco.(I drink Starbucks French Roast which they sell at Costco for $25 for 2/12 lbs- such a deal)!  Me: Mom we have a Costco here. Mom: Really? Do you want anything? They have beautiful cashmere. Me: They have cashmere at Costco?? Mom: No at Steinmart.

I love my family!

Sons of Anarchy

Being a serial series consumer, I have now moved on to Sons of Anarchy, which is a series about motorcycle gang club (they absolutely insist on being referred to as a club) in the fictional town of Charming, (ya I know) in southern California. If you are watching the show you will hear reference to "Samcrow" over and over and you know they are referring to the club by the context, but if you are like me you won't know why- so here's the dope (no not me- I mean the lowdown). It is an acronym  for Sons of Anarchy Motorcycle Club Redwood Original or SAMCRO. Best to know this right out of the gate.

here is their cute logo

ya this is better

These outlaws have protective feelings for Charming and although they do run guns, have a porno operation, noise pollute by pack riding their Harleys up and down the street- (a very cool yet scary sight), severely beat up and even kill people- they also clamp down on drug dealing and prostitution, have Sunday dinners and run community events like annual fundraisers at the local school - kinda like the Haddasa bazaar. The president is Clay Morrow and the vp is his step son Jax Teller whose father was previously married to Clay's wife, Gemma before he died. Yes, intriguing. In fact there is some suggestion of a Hamlet theme in case you are trying to justify watching this violent soap opera. I don't bother.

Of course there is the whole host of MC guys (as distinguished from the McGuys (no space) those who work at McDonalds) with adorable nicknames like Piney (pronounced PINE-ee - one of the original founders), Tig (black curly hair and blue eyes, soul patch, little beard and not bothered by doing it with corpses- do you mind!), Chibs (he's an Irish lad with a serious scar), Juice ( he's got a Mowhawk and lovely smile -well they all do really), Opie, (always brooding, long beard and watch cap), and Half Sack- (so named because he only has one testicle.)

Tig, Bobby, Piney, Jax, ,Juice, Otto (he's inside), Opie and Chibs- quite the crew

The bestest and most handsomest is Jax, the lead, played by British actor Charlie Hunnam and watching him is worth the price of admission.

Jackson Teller- heir apparent 

In fact I have to admit after 3 episodes I called my sister, who lives in the US of A and complained about her S of A recommendation saying that I couldn't connect with any of the characters-- didn't like them even-- and she was aghast  "No- what about Jax- you gotta love Jax- even if he is a viscous criminal- when I see him beating up on someone I say- why can't he be beating up on me!"  I sort of get that.

I'm now at the penultimate episode of Season 2, and am good and truly hooked and have deep affection for all of the club members.

They certainly have enough affection for each other- there must be 4 or 5 hugging moments in every episode. Do you mind! What is with all the hugging? While there is traditional type hugging between a chick and a guy, the most hugging going on is guy on guy- it is bro hugging and they are wearing their kuttes (their leather jackets with the sleeves cut off- a really good look and sound because they do the hug and pat, pat, on the leather - sounds manly).

why can't Jax be bro-hugging me?

There are also many times in each show where one character will ask another "You Ok?"  which person will respond either "Yeah"  (even though they typically have criminal angst) or "No man, I'm not Ok." (which shows they are opening up a bit about their criminal angst).

Of course in  the mix is the bad cop, good cop gig, the Feds- The ATFs, the rival gangs- the Mayans (Mexican), the One-Niners, (an African American street gang) a meth dealing white supremacist named Darby, the IRA and the Chinese mafia Lin Triad- and that is just so far!

Part of the running theme is Jax's reading of his dead father's manifesto which poses whether the club has to go down this way or maybe there could be another way which causes Jax to question the club and even himself. Also Jax's old lady is a "docta"-  a surgeon actually (lucky too cause she and her trusty first aid kit are often on call)- pretty establishment- when it starts but.. I'll say no more.

We are constantly reminded that the club is a family and sometimes a member is requested to "take one for the club"-and it ends up being mostly weird sexual favours. I guess that is part of being in a family.

Also the background songs (and there are many per show) are outstanding and Episode Titles as in BB are worth noting.  Highly recommended if only for gawking at the pretty boy.