THE TAKEAWAY - 2010 Edition

Sure, this is a little late... I know. And I know I've been remiss in updating this blog.
I've been busy... doing what? Well, here's the wrap-up of things I've experienced, witnessed, learned and discovered in 2010.

2010 was the year I tackled the Brussel Sprout.
Cooked and ate my very first ones. Not so scary after all.

Lulu's Cake Boutique opened around the corner.
Homemade red velvet white chocolate dipped Twinkies? Lulu's, you're the devil.

Sedona remains my happy place.
And still happy I painted my NYC apartment walls the exact color of the dirt that ends up on your shoes after hiking in red rock country.

This year I learned patience.
Not all of it. Just some of it. Still a work in progress.
Be patient with me.

I still hate The Sunshine State. Pythons. Alligators. Frozen iguanas dropping like coconuts from the trees.
And a political cesspool. It's not so much the heat & humidity that's the problem... it's the hate & stupidity.
Still hoping Florida cracks off at the Georgia state line and sinks, leaving just the donut hole of WDW floating so it can continue to make people happy.
(And seriously -- how much more notice can I give those I love who insist on still living down there?)

At least I know how to behave in church.

Lestat de Lioncourt is rolling over in his grave. Well, in his coffin anyway.

I'm much more at home in a Diner, Drive-In or Dive than in a fancy restaurant. I don't care about NY Times reviews or which famous chef is behind the latest restaurant. There's something undeniably special about visiting a local institution or sitting at a bar with the perfect beer & perfect burger. But, I really want to eat what Jose Andres is cooking and I really want to try Red Rooster. Yes, I am quite the contradiction sometimes.

It's unsettling to realize you don't know someone as well as you thought you did.
Even more unsettling? That you don't know yourself as well as you thought you did.

I had my first milkshake in about 15 years. That was a bloated mistake. Might try again at age 55.

You're stellar. Don't doubt yourself, ever. Breathe.

To quote Atticus Finch, "You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view... Until you climb inside of his skin and walk around it in."
To quote Berb, "Anyone who wants to judge you can just go F*&K themselves."

I am seriously considering teetotalism.

My 'Plan A' (to win MegaMillions) is STILL not working.

I put together a Book of Love for my mother's 70th birthday, asking friends and family to submit birthday greetings and memories. The feedback was overwhelming and the final binder a project from hell (who knew I scrapbooked? not I.) It is a real testament to how much people love her. Now if that's not something to aspire to I don't know what is.

Sylvia's in Harlem: DAY-YUM.

Summer 2010 was, in a word, strange. It slipped by too fast and I didn't get to do all the things or spend time with all the people I wanted to most. 2009 spoiled us. And Fall 2010 blew past twice as fast. Unsettling. Must remember to slow down and make time for all the people, places and things I want to see.

BOMBOLONI!!!

God Bless You, Colin Firth.
God Bless You, Craig Ferguson.
God Bless You, Jon Stewart.

I miss my friends who live far away. And the Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan is too damn far away!!
Go on, change the world. Make the world a better place. But can you do it closer to home? xoxo

Is there anything more mind-numbing than the zombie-like cult members of the Evil Sisterhood of the Maternity Pants? I remain awed by my friends who love their children fiercely and tackle every parenting up & down they face yet still remain whole human beings whose worlds are enhanced exponentially, not defined mind-numbingly, by their offspring.

I traveled this year - more than in 2009, thank God, but not nearly enough to satiate an unquenchable wanderlust. I can lose myself for hours in maps and planning trips and adventures. I pity anyone who has zero interest in exploring the world beyond their own little bubble.

The more things change the more they stay the same.

Karma really is a boomerang. Problem is, boomerangs (at least my metaphorical ones) have no sense of direction and definitely no sense of time. They run on their own schedule and zig-zag all over the damn place. But, eventually, if you're patient... the boomerangs land just where they're supposed to: Page Six.

The trip down to DC for The Rally To Restore Sanity nearly cost me mine. But once the crazy, bitchy, stressed out me (apologies to Pam and Jeff) got to The Mall... it was such an incredible experience to be among 250,000 other people with no other agenda than, in the words of Jimmy Buffett, "if we couldn't laugh we would all go insane." The court jesters can be truthful. And the saner angels among us will prevail. (Also: people watching and sign-reading to die for!)

There will never be another rock star to walk the earth who is 1/10 as cool as Keith Richards.
Read his autobiography and am now borderline obsessed and revisiting all my Stones CDs. KEEF = COOLEST CAT EVER.

My trip back down to DC for a private tour of The West Wing was overwhelming. I had a tough time processing all the history I was walking amidst. It was like viewing The Grand Canyon for the first time: you can't wrap your brain around it. So viewing The Roosevelt Room, The Cabinet Room, and The Oval Office... and the Rose Garden... it was easier to slip into the world of Aaron Sorkin than try to grasp the magnitude of where I was. Walking along the West Colonade... it was the glib, easy-way-out to imagine this where President Bartlet would have a cigarette than to acknowledge the American and World history that took place on this square footage of real estate.

Let Obama Be Obama.

Fuck Switzerland.

God, I love football! (J-E-T-S! Jets! Jets! Jets!)

I worry for your sanity. You're not right in the head. And you're extremely angry. Your heart is filled with hate and hurt. I fear what you're capable of doing. This won't end well. I pray for you. Seriously.

People want to see you in a way that suits their needs. You are labeled, summed up, and confined to a certain role in their lives. Nothing confounds or unsettles them more than when you change or behave in a manner that messes with the way they are used to you behaving. Because you're not an extra in their own personal sitcom. You are a lead character in your own story. Rewrite the script and develop your own plot and soon enough those same people will be merely walk-ons in the story of your life. [Thank you, K. Smith ]

You have a drinking problem. You realize that, right?

I'm totally OK with Mr. FedEx man ringing my bell at 7:15 AM if he's delivering a really awesome holiday gift (can you say, "Longchamps?")
I expect the same of anyone at my door at that hour in the future.

I fed a giraffe!! Crossing that off my 500 x 50 list.
Still on my list? Committing my 500 x 50 list to paper and/or digital file.
(FYI: Have replaced giraffe with orangutan.)

I attended a wake for a two-and-a-half-year-old little girl; the relative of my dearest and oldest friend whose family is like my own.
Unbearably sad. Unthinkably unfair. And there is not one damn thing I can write that can add to that. R.I.P. Athena

Colin Firth in The King's Speech. Brilliant. If he doesn't win every acting award this season there is no justice in the world.

On the travel wish hit list for 2011: Newport, Edinburgh, London, Falling Water, Chicago, Memphis, Philly, Los Angeles, Italy, Alaska, and Turks & Caicos.
We shall see...
Also, more time in Commack, Marlboro, Syracuse, and Washington, D.C. I promise.

I still love Facebook. I love the friendships rekindled and/or strengthened by having Facebook as a connection (own the cheese, people, own the cheese.) I also realize much of it is crap. That it's a forum for passive aggressiveness. That status updates can be used to fish for attention. And that clearly some people find it more convenient/cheaper than venting in a therapist's office. Also, let's face it, it's performance art (as my dear Aaron Sorkin noted, "socializing on Facebook is to socializing what reality TV is to reality.) It's also making me really dislike a whole lot of people. Also, I have made a conscious choice to avoid discussing anything too political because I can't do it in a forum overrun with people obsessed with the well-being of their imaginary farm animals.

Wow. There's some really good parenting you're doing there. Moron.

My favorite room is The Chocolate Room.

I'm really, really, really sorry I ever believed you were an exotic dancer.
(To be fair, the upside is that you're totally hot enough to pull it off... ? Still not funny?)

You know what's amusing to watch play out?
Someone who much deserves it having a Class Action Lawsuit brought against him.
No, you're not an icon.
Unless you're using that word in the sentence "I con you into thinking I'm important." I con't believe no one's called you out yet.

Still a strong, female, Jewish, liberal, educated, opinionated, New York City-dwelling, accurately spelling, Democrat (mostly) and proud of it.

I traveled to North Carolina, Tennessee, Virginia and Pennsylvania on a road trip that took me to Chapel Hill, Asheville, Smoky Mountain National Park, Monticello, and Gettysburg. Moved by the beauty. Enamored by the history. But happy to come home to a Union state.

I've been so focused on trying to find work (mission accomplished) that I've neglected this blog; I resolve again to update it more often in 2011.
I've also been negligent in updating my List Of People Who Need To Go Far, Far Away & Never Return. Truth is, I can barely keep up with all the people I'd like to see added to that list.

I got pulled aside for a pat-down by T.S.A. agents at Newark Liberty International Airport.
No big deal. Totally polite. Totally professional. Yes, you can feel around my oversized hooded sweatshirt if it means I arrive safely at my Arizona destination.

V.P. Joe Biden remains my Senior Citizen crush.
Uncle Kracker remains my trailer park crush.
Ron White is my combo platter: Senior Citizen who lives in a trailer park crush.

I'm a girl. Such a girl.
Manicures and pedicures and frolicking at Sephora... oh, to witness me wander through the Coach Outlet Store smitten...
I so love the frilly side of being a girl... more than usually admit or show... but the girly factor emerges when you least expect it.
And it tends to catch some of the boys off guard.

If you can't go to London, bring London to your Huckleberry.

Just because Duran Duran is in the title of a book does not make it well-written or accurate.

Just because you have the mighty Rolling Stone credential on your resume doesn't mean I won't be called in to overhaul everything you wrote.

Dare to suck.

I'm disheartened by all of my friends and colleagues who remain underemployed, especially those with expertise within the entertainment industry. It seems like an unbelievable waste of talent. Here's hoping 2011 brings opportunity and security to all those kickass individuals who are wanting to work and would be an asset to anyone smart enough to hire them.

I ate a yak burger. And a venison burger. And alligator gumbo. And snake brochettes. This year alone. That whole vegetarian thing? That ain't ever gonna happen.

It really is all about the V.I.P. Parking.

I am of the firm belief that in order to continue my quest for the perfect lobster roll, I will be New England bound this summer...

My friends and I have reached the age where we're watching our parents' age take its toll and witness our parents' health begin to decline. We're not ready for this. I'm certainly not ready to flip the parent/child script just yet. If you're blessed to still have your parents with you, appreciate every moment you have with them.

Thank you to my friends who made the bulk of 2010's rollercoaster ride a joy. You are my oxygen.

Here's to 2011... maybe you be blessed with the best of everything:
Health & happiness, friends & family, love and laughter.
LOTS of laughter 'cause it's the only thing that's gonna get you through everything else life throws at you!

For last year's words belong to last year's language
And next year's words await another voice." - T.S. Eliot