Indoor Swimming and Gardening

Lyla's pleading for a pail of water for her duckie always wins me over when she is cute about it, and of course asks me 200 times. This is a typical night at our house where water reins supreme. Either we're floating duckies, balloons, or watering Lyla's indoor garden. Thanks to Dennis and Antoinette for getting that for her for Christmas, she just loves it, and the responsibility of watering them every day.

Didn't I call it?

On 11/4 I posted about Ralph Lauren, and his Grapes of Wrath runway show. I swore then that J.Crew, who everyone knows is my favorite retailer, would be carrying overalls this season. That time has arrived fellow followers.

I think I may own these before long. It all depends on whether I can pull it off. When I receive the J. Crew catalogs, I am aflutter inside awaiting everything I will wear for the months ahead. Also, the way they have been styling their catalogs and models over the last two years has exceeded the likes of Free People and Anthropologie, who are known for their unique couplings of ensembles. However, J. Crew now has me wondering, can I put this outfit together in this way? Unfortunately, the answer is often no. When you see an anorexic girl wearing short short tuxedo shorts, a ruffled top on top of a sweater beneath a button down with half socks and capezios, she looks incredible. When I decide to buy those pieces, I drop back into reality that I don't look anything like that, and moreover, that my legs are at least five inches shorter than a model's legs. yes folks, I'm tall--5'9". Problem is, my legs are only 30" long. Many people have questioned how and why I wear four inch heels every day, it's because my legs are so short! When I wear flat with jeans, I look Fergie (who I think looks awful in everything).

See this inset pic of the girls below. This is a perfect examle of an outfit I love, but cannot in my wildest dreams pull off. Of course it didn't stop me from ordering the vest to the left, because no one loves ruffles more than me. That's another thing...
I realized a few days ago upon trying to find something to wear that I have a minimum of 10 ruffled tops in my closet. Tank tops, jackets, tee shirts, button-downs, dresses. I hadn't discriminated in my purchasing. I own at least one of every article of clothing that could have a ruffle on it. I even have a damn wedding dress with tons of ruffles!
I blame J. Crew for this. They've been ruffling everything lately, and as I mentioned, they layer it and make it all look so good, that it wins me over every time. I'm an addict. A ruffle addict.

I bought this navy ruffled jacket (pictured right, in orange) after seeing it the J. Crew winter catalog (shot in Chile in the snow). The model had it on over a paper tee turtleneck, a chemise (yes, a nightgown), and skinny cords with Sorel boots. It looked so cool. I bought the whole ensemble (except the boots, even though I wanted those too). When I tried my version of it, I looked like I had taken an Ambien the night before and slept walked into my closet and chosen the items during REM sleep. It was a mess. I've worn the jacket once, but it didn't look good, and as much as I love it, it's orphaned. The catalog shows the jacket many ways, but all of them involve me wearing a micro mini with a chambray shirt and tie, a pencil skirt with ten necklaces, a vest and a men's caddy hat, or tight cuffed jeans with slingback heels and argyles.

The other style they had me hooked on two seasons ago was the skinny and/or tie belt. I have four ribbon belts with flowers on them, two sparkly belts, and one thin studded belt, all of which make me look wide and disheveled whenever I wear them with anything. I've tried them with dresses, jackets, sweaters....to no avail. Is it the contorted positions models are often in that prevent them from looking like I do? Is it that my waist is five inches wider than theirs? Maybe it's that they faux tuck everything into making sense? That's one place I'll never go.

When we went to NYC a few weeks ago, I wore a fushia dress over skinny jeans, with a blue and white striped sweater over top, and flats. I can't wear short shirts that show my ass (with jeans), so everything I wear must be long. The thing is, to wear long tops, you need to wear a slimmer pant. The problem is I look like I have tree trunk legs in all skinny jeans despite the 100 pairs I own. I try to do the right thing, but it always backfires on me in the mirror. That day, I caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror, and I could have been compared to stage version of George Clinton. It was just a random arrangement of fits and colors. If I was a celeb, I might have been on the "What was she thinking" list that day. I was appalled at myself. I luckily made up for it that the next day with some sassy over the knew boots, and a smart tee/sweater combo. Hooray me!

Alas, a model or a stylist of myself I will never be, but hey, a girl's gotta dream.
I have taken the liberty of including all of the new J. Crew "Collection" pieces I will likely purchase without the ability to ever a) wear together, and b) wear at all. Now I understand why I'm always broke, with lots of clothes, and nothing to wear.

Stuff White People Like

This is the title of a popular book, blog, and calendar series, that truly hits the core of what white people are all about. I am 100 percent everything this book is about. Every page I read, I get spooked more and more that this guy is writing this about me. There were two excerpts about white people loving to correct grammar, and one about how you should become friends with a girl who cuts her bangs because she spends a lot on the haircut that had me dying at my office last week. This morning I read one about how all white people are wearing Ray Ban wayfarers right now, which of course I have been doing for over a year!

I thought I'd share this one about white people hating when a book they've read becomes a movie. I feel this way, and I feel it even more about music I like getting popular. I am so, so white.

Enjoy.

It is a guarantee that whenever it is announced that a popular book is being turned into a movie, white people will get upset. This is partly due to their fear that something they love will be made accessible to more people and thus enjoyed by more people which immediately decreases the amount of joy a white person can feel towards the original property. Yes, it’s complicated.

The other problem is that these announcements create a ticking time bomb where by a white person must read the book in ADVANCE of the release of the movie. This is done partly so that they can engage in the popular activity of complaining about how the movie failed to capture the essence of the book. But more importantly, once a book has been made into a movie, a white person can no longer read that book. To have read the book after the movie is one of the great crimes in white culture, and under no circumstances should you ever admit to doing this. Literally dozens of white friendships have imploded when it was revealed that someone read Fight Club after 1999.

So when it was announced that Where the Wild Things Are was being turned into a feature film, white people didn’t immediately get excited at the prospect of this film, in fact a great number of white people cringed when they first heard it was being turned into a movie. This was merely instinct. Immediately, those concerns quickly turned into an opiate-like peace when they found out that the film is being directed by white person favorite Spike Jonze and adapted for the screen by legendary white writer Dave Eggers.

Though the talent and the material has white people in a tizzy, the real excitement comes from the fact that this film is based off a book that is 48 pages long and made up mostly of illustrations. This means that white people do not have to re-read the book until the day they head to the movie theater. Thus freeing them up to watch The Director’s Series: The Work of Spike Jonze DVD which they bought years ago but only watched once.

Finally, and perhaps of most value to you is that the film has generously provided you with an excellent way to test out how many white friends you have. When the trailer was released a few months ago, you should have been inundated with emails, instant messages, and Facebook wall posts about how you need to see the trailer immediately. If you received no word that the trailer was available, then you currently are in possession of no white friends. If you received multiple notices, you should take note about who sent it to you first.

NYC

We went to NYC last week for our annual family dinner and overnight. The planning consists of my sister and I researching thousands of restaurants two weeks before, filtering out everyone's likes and dislikes in the way of food (which takes about as long as a Tarantino take is Inglorious Bastards) and praying we get in somewhere for eight people on a Saturday night.

It all ended pleasantly, and we not only had a great meal, but we got a peep show, and

Tracey ended up with a pair of $25 pasties for her birthday. Don't say I never gave you anything good Tra! Yes, the restaurant we chose had a burlesque show at 11:00. The girls were singing and dancing, and my brother was drooling. It was quite a show all around!

Before all the song and dance we had an amazing day full of sadness, culture shock and agita, me draining my bank account, a spotting of Sigourney Weaver, and of course lots of drinks.

We started the day with my parents (who drove up with me to meet up with Trent who was already in the city for work on Friday). We roamed the financial district for a breakfast place open on the weekend (Wall Street tends to shut down on the weekends). Most places were actually open, but we had the luxury of nothing being crowded. We went to this place for breakfast sandwiches but they also had a full-on buffet of Mexican, Italian, and Chinese food all ready for inhaling at 9:00 a.m. It was strangely

appetizing and gross at the same time.

The place seemed pretty decent until we headed upstairs where the tables were. It was obvious this place was open late the night before, because there were empties all over the astroturf floor. The tables were all coated with food leftovers and perhaps fat from chicken, I couldn't quite place it. The walls were covered with thin tree logs where people signed their names. I don't know why I didn't sign. I could have left my mark there forever. Something like "Jen Rules" or "For a good time call 443.756.5169" one of the old faves we all love. The dining area definitely skeaved us all a bit, but I did enjoy pointing out the typos on the signs on the buildings across the street like, "All suit cheaper then department store prices" (fyi there are two errors in that message, I'll let you all figure it out).

From there we moved on to Ground Zero. Unfortunately, we were there too early to get a guided tour by someone directly linked to 9/11. So, we took the audio tour which was still very good. The whole experience was very chilling, and I wept several times thinking about what had occurred, and the stories people shared in the audio. The funny thing was, we all had our own headsets, and each of us started them at different times. So, I would be crying about something, and I would look at my Mom or Dad,

and I could tell when they heard the same thing because they would well up as well. Trent's dead inside, so he kept it all in.

I haven't been to GZ since 9/11, so it was the first time I could see the massive void that was left by the towers and surrounding promenade. If you haven't had a chance to get there yet, you should, just to see it. They are building a huge new

project complete with a new 70 story building, park, and remembrance fountain as well as mixed retail and a new visitor's center. So, the view of what we saw will

quickly vanish. I included pics from my phone of the site, the surrounding buildings, and the inside of the building where we stared at the site head-on.

Trent is pictured here pondering. Quite nice I think.

The visitor's center is amazing. As small as it is, is really has incredible pictures, stories, and accounts of those affecting by the event.

What happened next in our day can only be described as complete madness. We decided, when in New York, have dim sum. We asked the concierge for a really good place, and he told us about Jing Fong right off Canal Street in Chinatown. It's a maze to get there, and as soon as we hopped out of the cab, the mayhem ensued. At least a hundred people were huddling the entrance of this place at 11:30 in the morning. We entered a huge lobby with two escalators leading to the main dining room. There are three girls at a podium taking names. For the first time, having a party of eight worked to our advantage. People with small parties weren't even getting seated (yet). Apparently, they need to seat larger parties first, so the people with two and four just get added to those tables. So, if you don't like sitting with strangers, don't go to this place. There are no tables smaller than eight. After we get our number, we are asked to leave the podium immediately and wait outside. This is about when we realized we were white. Everyone who was Chinese knew what to do. Everyone who was white did not--except those lame people who think they're cool because they know what to do (which will be me next time). Even though we had a number, it wasn't called. We noticed other people going in, and going up. So, we eventually took the initiative and went back into the volatile lobby. As soon as we walked in, she took our number and we were ushered onto the escalators.

What we saw at the top cannot be accurately depicted in pictures, although I provided them. The link to Yelp above does show pics of JF, but again they do not do the enormity of this restaurant justice. Picture 2,000 people packed into a cheesy banquet hall with the noise level comparable to a U2 concert where everyone is singing to every song. Again, this is at 11:30 a.m. Every table is full, and there are people everywhere. When you walk in, just to the left is a guy in a cheap beige suit sitting at a paper and glitter-adorned table answering the phone.

The sign on the table says "event planner" I can't imagine having an event at this place. You'd have to invite everyone you've ever known. The event planner is located literally in the middle of the dining room. I guess if you meat with him, you're just in the mix of the caos during your visit. I'm pretty sure this guy would be there during your event too, so if that's not your bag, book the Waldorf.

Ok, on to the table. We are loosely following a girl through the room. By that I mean, she gives us no indication that she's leading us, and we start getting lost in the crowd, and she stops for a moment at a table and carries on, so we just assume it's ours. We haven't even taken off our coats, and someone rolls onto the scene with a cart with all of her treasures. We weren't expecting this to occur so quickly. Flustered, I start saying yes to whatever she holds up. As you can assume, none of us speak Chinese. We're talking to her in English, she's talking to us in Chinese, and no one knows what anyone wants from each other. So, we just take some stuff. The next few carts have stuff that seems familiar, and lucky for us, these women have key words on their tongues like "pork" and chicken feet" so we can start to decipher what we should be saying yes to. The cartilage-a-plenty cold pork off the first cart almost made me throw-up in my mouth, so I'm glad we started pausing and assessing the food before we took it. The thing is, every woman had about eight to ten things on her cart, some of the dim sum wrappers looks the same so you don't always know by looking at it what it is. Plus, there are desserts and other crap on the carts as well, so you're not even really sure what part of the meal you're eating.

After a few scary plates, we started also noticing people walking around with big helpings of kale and clams and such. It took us a good 20 minutes to see that there was a buffet of sorts at the other end of the hall. Tracey and I headed down to explore. Most of it was assorted sea life with suckers that we avoided for the table, but it also had some yummy dumplings, clams, and the greens! This was also difficult because the women were all yelling at us, kind of like Americans do to everyone in other countries, so I guess it ain't just us. However, the louder

they got, the more confused we got, so we just handed them the card, and that was the universal agreement that some type of transaction was being made. For those who don't know how dim sum works: they come around with these steamy carts with the food, you pick what you want, and they stamp a card that shows what you've ordered.

The women pictured to the left were unpacking their fake LV purses at the table and stuffing their leftovers in them. WTH?

All in all, we held our own, but it was extremely stressful, and frankly we ate so fast I can hardly remember what we actually had. The table got exhausted pretty quickly and our collective steam ran out three or four carts into it. It's like going to a Melting Pot for fondue. You start out dipping every veggie and piece of meat into the broth and savoring it; by the end you're dumping the whole plate of stuff in there just to finish it off.

I liked the food, but Trent said, "I think it's pretty safe to say I would never come here again."

I think his face on the escalator ride down says it all, don't you?

Stay tuned for Part II of the NYC experience...

Chill TIme Before School

A typical morning of Lyla all but ignoring me while she watches Max and Ruby, which may be one of the worst kid's shows on. So boring. Oh Yo Gabba Gabba--I do miss you.

It's Christmas Time

I know this post is late, but cut me a break, I've been so busy. With all of the things I see and hear every day I could honestly blog all of the time, but alas, there are not enough hours in the day to document my life's spottings.

So, I'm re-capping Christmas Eve at my sister's house. Here are a few shots of the lovely table, and merriment. There were many antics, and honestly, we had to calm ourselves when Tracey's friend Anna and her parents showed up. Prior to that we were getting tanked singing in the kitchen, and crawling all over each other. I've never seen so many people in one kitchen cleaning up. Although, after making six pounds of Orzo and six packages of fresh shrimp, and enough mussels to serve a seafood restaurant for an entire night, there was plenty to go around. Needless to say we didn't even eat half of it. I think we overestimated the appetites of children under 12 picking up the slack.

It was also fun to see Helen slip into the funkiest Greek-American accent when Anna's parents told her they were from Greece. She was describing all the places she'd been in Greece in the full-on accent. As a matter of fact, all the words were being pronounced Greek. She all but squirted them with Windex.

It was a great night overall, because there was much love, much food, and much beverage for all of us.

Christmas day brought Noah an ATV from his Nanny B, and soon after he was modeling his helmet, which is the video here. He's very serious about posing.




We also had much fun after Christmas at our house where Lyla entertained everyone with her continuous Christmas carols. As a matter of fact, Lyla's teacher told Jean (our nanny) yesterday that she just broke out in song with Frosty the Snowman in the middle of class. I can only imagine what the other kids think about Lyla! After all, the teacher did say she's always leading all the other kids to the next activity and singing all the while. I wonder where she gets that from? I was going to post it, but in my infinite dumbness, I think I deleted it while transferring files from my latop to my external hard drive. Drats.

I made a typo

Yes, I did make a typo.

I tend to be a much worse writer and proof reader of my own writing than I am of others. I'll blast anyone, then I am tasked to write something myself, and it's riddled with errors, and sometimes makes no sense. Case in point, this blog.

So, yes, I just sent out our holiday cards, and I know I missed some people, so you need to give me until January to get them all out since I did the first batch from memory of people's addresses.
Well, I intended to write the phrase "point to point" and instead I wrote point to pint. Bah. The humanity. So, yes, even I, the great one, makes mistakes.

So now it's time for your lashing. Today's grammar lesson includes possession as posed by the elusive apostrophe. For those of you who sent a Christmas card to us from your family (which means more people than you) pay attention. I'm going to teach you the difference between This pluralization and possession.

If I were to say: "I'm going to the Walter's house for dinner tonight," the apostrophe in this case denotes that we own the house in question. Possession.

However, if I were to say: "Happy Holidays, Love, The Walters," I DO NOT use an apostrophe. There is no ownership. There is only a pluralization. I'm telling you this card is from all of us--The Walters, not just me, the Walter.

So, why, and girls I'm calling you out because I notice many more girls do this than guys, are you saying: "Happy Holidays, Love, The Walter's"

?

Please remedy this in time for next year's cards, and enjoy the last typo you'll see from me in print for a long time.