Sometimes I wonder which kids grow up to be "parking police". Is it something they dream about when they were young? Did they want to become police and couldn't quite make the cut? Or maybe they want to look like police officers, but they're not stable enough to carry weapons?! Do they enjoy the idea of ruining people's days? Maybe they like the uniform? Or riding a bicycle around town? Whatever their motivations are, I'm sorry for them. Truly and utterly sorry.
I can't think of a more useless occupation. I mean seriously. No one likes you. Most people despise you. I hate you. You have hardly any real purpose at all. Most tickets are useless anyway. I totally get it if you're blocking a fire pump or a bus lane. Other than that, tickets are just a silly way to collect money. Sometimes I wonder why the cities don't use your powers (and your biking legs) for good?
So, to the total loser on the roadside cruiser today, Thank you so much for the $60 parking ticket that you wrote as I watched. I figure (and i believe) that you probably have never had a second date with a woman in your life. Our aggressive and rude conversation outside that disgusting sandwich shop aptly named BOAR, was probably the first female interaction you've had all day. All this anger you displayed while I gasped from that large pig head on the sign above. You even threatened me with a second ticket. GET a LIFE.
Don't worry parking agent, I'll get the last laugh. One of these days, you'll be rushing to ticket a hybrid Prius and you'll get knocked over by an 18 wheeler. Until then, carry on. And i hope you do some charitable and meaningful work somewhere else.
Friday 27 June 2014
Monday 23 June 2014
coffee, tea or me?
I'm seriously fascinated by the coffee world. I've given the concept some serious thought and i can't recall when it all started. Sure, I remember my parents drinking coffee at home. At first from their old fashioned and basic drip machine and years later from their super duper JURA hot rod. I'll never forget the day my dad came home with that $3000 beauty. My mother swore up and down that she'd never use it. She was convinced she'd never figure it out. After all, it was nearly a computer with way too many bells and whistles. Then she gave up her fight and became obsessed. I swear she pays more attention to that machine than she does to her kids. These days the JURA sits beside her distant cousin, the Nespresso. My mom has a need for both, or so she claims. I am not a fan of that little pod machine. Seems like a short cut that's not quite worth taking. Also, i've done the math, and those little guys cost a ton per cup.
My mom has passed her obsession for coffee right down onto my two kids. From the time they could speak, she'd have them smell the fresh beans and then press the buttons to create the perfect cup. My four year old can nearly pass as a barista. He's mastered the whole event and even chooses to wear an apron around his waist.
I do remember coffee at our home. Everyone who walks into my parent's house is offered a cup. From close friends and family to guys who come to do yard work or plumbing. My parents treat everyone equally. LOVE that about them.
As a small kid, I recall spending copious amounts of time in a place called DUNKIN' DIP. If i had to guess this place pre-dated Dunkin Donuts, but i haven't checked google on the dates just yet. My mom used to meet her lady friends there and together they'd enjoy, get this, a muffin and a cup of coffee. If they were feeling particularly hungry, they'd have a tart frozen yogurt too. The year was 1983. Obviously. Muffins were considered "health food" in that era.
I can still smell that shop. They also had killer mousse in edible chocolate cups. I was thrilled when my mom allowed me to have one of those puppies. Mmmm. I can still taste that waffly cup today.
And i remember coffee in diners. Real NYC and NJ diners. Where the take out coffee came in those retro blue and white patterned cups. I love those cups. My parents used to let me indulge in the stuff. Starting from a really young age, I think. They'd call it "coffee milk" and my mom would add a couple of drops of sweet coffee to my 2% milk. Back in the 80's, it wasn't organic. But i digress.
When we'd go out for lunch or brunch, my parents would always order coffee. I loved the establishments that served their cream and milk in those small tiny plastic cups. My favourite was to open a teeny cup 1/2 way and then dribble some coffee right in. Then i'd gulp back 5 or 6 minis and i'd be good for the day. I must have been 6. The neatest thing is that BOTH my children do this today. Must be genetic. They also live to eat butter straight from those plastic pads. My kids rock!
So, coffee has become quite the thing. Back in the very early 90's, my parents took a trip to Alaska by way of Seattle. They came back raving about the coffee. Coffee shops on every single street? Coffee? And there was born Starbucks. Who would have known? Sadly they weren't wise enough to invest that year. Not in Apple stock either. What did they know?
I've always considered myself someone who drinks the stuff for the "taste". I never actually needed the caffeine and I was always fine with decaf. I couldn't even tell the difference between the two. That was pre-kids. Now i feel lost and foggy without a dose of caffeine before 10. Sadly, it seems the more i drink, the more i require.
We have a lovely coffee machine at home. Not quite a JURA, but a pretty sweet piece. We buy great coffee. No starbucks allowed. At present, we are good with Ezra's pound. Delish.
Strangely, as much as I claim that it's economical to use my home goods, I find that i'm drawn to coffee shops. I meet friends to chat at different shops. Business meetings are always easier with coffee. Today i even interviewed a potential baby sitter at my favourite local spot. This felt easier than cleaning the kitchen for her.
Most days i go for coffee alone. It's my treat right after i drop off the kids. I run down the street on autopilot and the baristas always know what i want. Iced americano with room for cream. Lots of ice. Take-out cup and a straw. I guess it's nice to be a regular. Makes me feel sort of warm and fuzzy inside.
Lately, i seem to be spending a lot of time at one particular establishment down the street from our house. The owner is a young Jordanian guy. Coffee is his passion and its awesome to watch him prepare a drink. He jokes that my americanos are made with love, but i don't actually think he's kidding. I also don't think i'm the only recipient of his amor. The guy just loves coffee. He loves every part of it, and he won't serve a less than perfect cup. Sometimes his love causes a bottleneck in his production line, but his guests love his coffee and his smile isn't bad either.
Sometimes when i sit at this said shop, I watch the other consumers. Everyone has a style. Each person has what i believe is a coffee ritual. Some people prefer decaf others like 2 shots of espresso. Fat free milk, soy milk, almond milk? When did milk becomes such a difficult situation? And then there's the issue of cups? I can't drink out of a "stay in" mug. Not sure why, but i prefer to sip from a to-go type. Maybe i always want to keep my options open? My mom assures me that I learned this thing from HER mom. She didn't believe that a cup of coffee was a cup of coffee until it was served in a TO-GO cup?! Family ties.
I'm not super picky about the brand of coffee I'll drink. For a dollar, I'll swallow down a medium iced from McDonalds (hold the sugar please!). Lately, however, I'm learning that i'm becoming more of a connoisseur. Last week I had to spill out a perfectly good iced coffee from both Starbucks and Dunkin Donuts. I'll never be a fancy wine drinker, but i think this CUT COFFEE stuff has me converted.
My mom has passed her obsession for coffee right down onto my two kids. From the time they could speak, she'd have them smell the fresh beans and then press the buttons to create the perfect cup. My four year old can nearly pass as a barista. He's mastered the whole event and even chooses to wear an apron around his waist.
I do remember coffee at our home. Everyone who walks into my parent's house is offered a cup. From close friends and family to guys who come to do yard work or plumbing. My parents treat everyone equally. LOVE that about them.
As a small kid, I recall spending copious amounts of time in a place called DUNKIN' DIP. If i had to guess this place pre-dated Dunkin Donuts, but i haven't checked google on the dates just yet. My mom used to meet her lady friends there and together they'd enjoy, get this, a muffin and a cup of coffee. If they were feeling particularly hungry, they'd have a tart frozen yogurt too. The year was 1983. Obviously. Muffins were considered "health food" in that era.
I can still smell that shop. They also had killer mousse in edible chocolate cups. I was thrilled when my mom allowed me to have one of those puppies. Mmmm. I can still taste that waffly cup today.
And i remember coffee in diners. Real NYC and NJ diners. Where the take out coffee came in those retro blue and white patterned cups. I love those cups. My parents used to let me indulge in the stuff. Starting from a really young age, I think. They'd call it "coffee milk" and my mom would add a couple of drops of sweet coffee to my 2% milk. Back in the 80's, it wasn't organic. But i digress.
When we'd go out for lunch or brunch, my parents would always order coffee. I loved the establishments that served their cream and milk in those small tiny plastic cups. My favourite was to open a teeny cup 1/2 way and then dribble some coffee right in. Then i'd gulp back 5 or 6 minis and i'd be good for the day. I must have been 6. The neatest thing is that BOTH my children do this today. Must be genetic. They also live to eat butter straight from those plastic pads. My kids rock!
So, coffee has become quite the thing. Back in the very early 90's, my parents took a trip to Alaska by way of Seattle. They came back raving about the coffee. Coffee shops on every single street? Coffee? And there was born Starbucks. Who would have known? Sadly they weren't wise enough to invest that year. Not in Apple stock either. What did they know?
I've always considered myself someone who drinks the stuff for the "taste". I never actually needed the caffeine and I was always fine with decaf. I couldn't even tell the difference between the two. That was pre-kids. Now i feel lost and foggy without a dose of caffeine before 10. Sadly, it seems the more i drink, the more i require.
We have a lovely coffee machine at home. Not quite a JURA, but a pretty sweet piece. We buy great coffee. No starbucks allowed. At present, we are good with Ezra's pound. Delish.
Strangely, as much as I claim that it's economical to use my home goods, I find that i'm drawn to coffee shops. I meet friends to chat at different shops. Business meetings are always easier with coffee. Today i even interviewed a potential baby sitter at my favourite local spot. This felt easier than cleaning the kitchen for her.
Most days i go for coffee alone. It's my treat right after i drop off the kids. I run down the street on autopilot and the baristas always know what i want. Iced americano with room for cream. Lots of ice. Take-out cup and a straw. I guess it's nice to be a regular. Makes me feel sort of warm and fuzzy inside.
Lately, i seem to be spending a lot of time at one particular establishment down the street from our house. The owner is a young Jordanian guy. Coffee is his passion and its awesome to watch him prepare a drink. He jokes that my americanos are made with love, but i don't actually think he's kidding. I also don't think i'm the only recipient of his amor. The guy just loves coffee. He loves every part of it, and he won't serve a less than perfect cup. Sometimes his love causes a bottleneck in his production line, but his guests love his coffee and his smile isn't bad either.
Sometimes when i sit at this said shop, I watch the other consumers. Everyone has a style. Each person has what i believe is a coffee ritual. Some people prefer decaf others like 2 shots of espresso. Fat free milk, soy milk, almond milk? When did milk becomes such a difficult situation? And then there's the issue of cups? I can't drink out of a "stay in" mug. Not sure why, but i prefer to sip from a to-go type. Maybe i always want to keep my options open? My mom assures me that I learned this thing from HER mom. She didn't believe that a cup of coffee was a cup of coffee until it was served in a TO-GO cup?! Family ties.
I'm not super picky about the brand of coffee I'll drink. For a dollar, I'll swallow down a medium iced from McDonalds (hold the sugar please!). Lately, however, I'm learning that i'm becoming more of a connoisseur. Last week I had to spill out a perfectly good iced coffee from both Starbucks and Dunkin Donuts. I'll never be a fancy wine drinker, but i think this CUT COFFEE stuff has me converted.
Friday 20 June 2014
i'm sorry, i must have missed the memo.
Honestly, I must have missed the memo. Somewhere in between the 23 emails from Sky Zone asking that i drag my kids, in the heat, to jump on their trampolines and the 400 reminder notes begging me to come back to Weight Watchers, I must have missed her memo. I had no idea. I didn't see it. I swear. So tonight I went in totally blind.
To begin, I did not realize I was meant to bring my nanny. Good thing I didn't know about this requirement ahead of time, because had I known, I may not have made an appearance at all. Mostly because we don't have a nanny.
I also did not realize we were ALL meant to wear very tight white jeans. Not only tight, but so tight that i could see the lines of your Hanky Panky underwear. Funny, this was part of the memo that some should have ignored. When you don't have a perfect BUTT or sexy strong legs, please don't wear clingy white jeans. If you must, please pair with a rather large tunic. But thank you. Because of you I couldn't eat my dinner. Plus one for me!
I'm guessing the note also asked that each woman wear very high heeled and expensive shoes. No, not just TOMS or Birkenstocks. It must have read "very expensive", because each lady had on a shoe more fancy than the next.
What else could that note have said? "Please don't forget to get your hair blown just so". Also, please be sure that your eyelash extensions are long and fresh. Preferably a size 11 in length.
Oh and whatever you do, DO not leave home without your Chanel bag. This part was surely written in bold. It had to be! Some even went so far as to wear Channel shoes too. Actual Chanel wedges. Who knew that Chanel even made wedges?!
As I took a glance around the room, there were at least 6 Chanel bags in plain site. Wow, at more than $5000 per bag, that was a TON of cash spent on what in NYC we call "pocket books"!! Personally i'd rather use that money for a weekly one hour massage downtown?!
Well, since i was busy drinking coffee at my local watering hole, I didn't check for a memo. Had i seen this note, I may not have even gone to your party. Tonight I showed up with perfectly blown out hair from the evening before (more on that night later) and what could most definitely pass as pyjamas. My well cut navy blue t-shirt was from Old Navy. Circa 2010. My yoga pants with the wide leg bottom were actually from Costco. My toes were painted the most perfect shade of periwinkle blue, but to stay casual, I paired them with my old white and well worn BIRKS.
I probably stood out, but i felt good. Comfy, relaxed. In reality, I felt i was one of the only people appropriately dressed?! After all, wasn't this a party for a 4 year old? I'm pretty sure that 1/2 the guests still wear diapers. Or at least pull ups at night.
So as I watched the lovely nannies work, I giggled to myself. It's a chuckle i have internally on a pretty regular basis. It's the notion that if martians landed in TO, they'd be sure that miraculously ladies from the Phillipines birthed white, often blonde hair/blue eyed babies.
I laughed and then frowned when i saw a kid fall off the ginormous jumpy castle. He hobbled straight from the jumpy house and right into his nanny's lap. This kid didn't even look for his mommy. Poor mommy.
I, on the other hand, was luckier. My four year old was literally beating me for stealing one of his french fries. As he continued to hit me, I thought that maybe these ladies who bring their nannies everywhere are onto something. These said moms were the most quaffed. In best shape. Seemingly the happiest. I was, on the other hand, sitting on the grass eating a veggie dog and sipping on an organic grace juice box. My kid was seriously hurting me, and i'm pretty sure my bum was rapidly spreading on that cute blue and white striped picnic blanket from Ikea.
Note to self... be more careful and read all memos. xo
To begin, I did not realize I was meant to bring my nanny. Good thing I didn't know about this requirement ahead of time, because had I known, I may not have made an appearance at all. Mostly because we don't have a nanny.
I also did not realize we were ALL meant to wear very tight white jeans. Not only tight, but so tight that i could see the lines of your Hanky Panky underwear. Funny, this was part of the memo that some should have ignored. When you don't have a perfect BUTT or sexy strong legs, please don't wear clingy white jeans. If you must, please pair with a rather large tunic. But thank you. Because of you I couldn't eat my dinner. Plus one for me!
I'm guessing the note also asked that each woman wear very high heeled and expensive shoes. No, not just TOMS or Birkenstocks. It must have read "very expensive", because each lady had on a shoe more fancy than the next.
What else could that note have said? "Please don't forget to get your hair blown just so". Also, please be sure that your eyelash extensions are long and fresh. Preferably a size 11 in length.
Oh and whatever you do, DO not leave home without your Chanel bag. This part was surely written in bold. It had to be! Some even went so far as to wear Channel shoes too. Actual Chanel wedges. Who knew that Chanel even made wedges?!
As I took a glance around the room, there were at least 6 Chanel bags in plain site. Wow, at more than $5000 per bag, that was a TON of cash spent on what in NYC we call "pocket books"!! Personally i'd rather use that money for a weekly one hour massage downtown?!
Well, since i was busy drinking coffee at my local watering hole, I didn't check for a memo. Had i seen this note, I may not have even gone to your party. Tonight I showed up with perfectly blown out hair from the evening before (more on that night later) and what could most definitely pass as pyjamas. My well cut navy blue t-shirt was from Old Navy. Circa 2010. My yoga pants with the wide leg bottom were actually from Costco. My toes were painted the most perfect shade of periwinkle blue, but to stay casual, I paired them with my old white and well worn BIRKS.
I probably stood out, but i felt good. Comfy, relaxed. In reality, I felt i was one of the only people appropriately dressed?! After all, wasn't this a party for a 4 year old? I'm pretty sure that 1/2 the guests still wear diapers. Or at least pull ups at night.
So as I watched the lovely nannies work, I giggled to myself. It's a chuckle i have internally on a pretty regular basis. It's the notion that if martians landed in TO, they'd be sure that miraculously ladies from the Phillipines birthed white, often blonde hair/blue eyed babies.
I laughed and then frowned when i saw a kid fall off the ginormous jumpy castle. He hobbled straight from the jumpy house and right into his nanny's lap. This kid didn't even look for his mommy. Poor mommy.
I, on the other hand, was luckier. My four year old was literally beating me for stealing one of his french fries. As he continued to hit me, I thought that maybe these ladies who bring their nannies everywhere are onto something. These said moms were the most quaffed. In best shape. Seemingly the happiest. I was, on the other hand, sitting on the grass eating a veggie dog and sipping on an organic grace juice box. My kid was seriously hurting me, and i'm pretty sure my bum was rapidly spreading on that cute blue and white striped picnic blanket from Ikea.
Note to self... be more careful and read all memos. xo
Dear mom,
hey,Just wanted to apologize for being late to pizza lunch-I had intended to get there on time and then had issues with my car…I was there as soon as possible.Regardless, I have been meaning to talk to you.I planned to bite my tongue, but then decided that now was a good time to mention what i’ve been hearing.It came to my attention at GARDEN FETE that there have been a couple of mom’s really undermining me at the school.I was quite shocked when i was first told about the adjectives used to describe me-Stuff like “mentally unstable” and "unfit mom" really upset me.I’ve heard about this now from more than one source-I contemplated letting it go in the spirit of DON”T ever argue with people you don’t respect.Today, after you seemed upset that i was late for the pizza event, I decided to let you know that i’ve been pretty upset with these rumours.It would make me very happy to learn that what i heard was not actually true.I would be even MORE thrilled to learn that there wasn’t more than one mom bad mouthing me at the schoolSo, if indeed these other mother’s have been lying to me, than i’m sorry for getting you involved at all.And if you have been behind this gossip machine, than i’m truly sorry for you.Just for the record (though i hope you keep this note private)I have had some mental health issues. That said, I’ve overcome a lot of obstacles and for that i’m very proud.Yes, I have also had words with a teacher at the school. And the principal too.I was right. Unquestionably correct.My amazing 4 year old is having a terrible school year, thanks to his teacher.I’ve been quite vocal about this. I might seem unfit when speaking to her, but that’s the LEAST of her issues.I’m one of the most dedicated mother’s i know.I run a phenomenal business, write a book, expose my kids to the world and keep a lovely happy home.each night i prepare healthy and fun meals for the familyI never have had a nanny raise my children-I’m there for every school trip, pick up and drop off.I’ve been class parent more than once. I’ve volunteered my time. Given money. Products. Attended every event…I even attempted to sit on that school board a few times. Well, we all know how THAT went down...Again, If you haven’t been spreading these rumours about me, i 100% apologize for this email.If you are the one who is keeping up this silly story, then, please find something more meaningful to do.As a marketing and PR professional, I do and will always believe, that it’s great to have people talking about you…no matter what they say.And sometimes even being a train wreck is OK—because train wrecks always make the first page!!All my best,
Wednesday 18 June 2014
Speed dating.
Last night, before the hurricane came to the city, I headed downtown, in ridiculous, traffic to meet a group of strangers at the rooftop of the THOMPSON hotel. It had been a long day, so i didn't have time for my usually party preparation. I did manage to spray some coconut oil into my dirty hair, run my hot pink flat iron through my dry curls, and after all that effort, the locks were thrown into a chignon. It wasn't my best look, but it was a look. Tom Ford's $250 fragrance from heaven was squirted liberally on my neck and other pulse points. In my mind, that smell made up for the remnants of the earlier Air Canada flight and the hot and humid afternoon.
I didn't have time or the inclination to worry about a sexy outfit, so i stepped into my old faithfuls. The black crepe-y tunic and my favourite extra tight black leggings. Mostly it's in my head, but i feel 10 pounds lighting in those said "pants". Because tonight was extra special, I took off the birkenstocks that had so lovingly moulded to my feet and sparked a pair of nude heels. I was as ready as i was going to be.
When the valet took my car, he confirmed the fact that my leggings were working. Fine, maybe it was the convertible, but he seemed to think i was all that. Maybe and a bag of chips too. I probably should have been more anxious. I probably should have had my nails done. Or tried more earnestly to straighten my hair. Actually, what i really should have tried was a shower. But i digress.
When the host of the evening greeted me, I felt like an excited teenager. I was only mildly disappointed when I was told that we would have to move to the basement. Due to the inclement weather, it wasn't a great plan to use the glamorous, swanky rooftop we've all come to know and love. The basement was better anyway. Darker. More intimate. Better A/C.
I was among the to arrive. Together with the two hosts, I helped with a bit of last minute planning. Where would the food go? The music? How would we arrange the chairs for the evening.
I was happy when my girlfriend walked in. She looked quite lovely. She was in her favourite outfit too(or so she said). Unlike what I had put on, she actually managed to find a sweet skirt. Skirts are lovely. Definitely better than my lycra "pants". I should find a skirt one of these days. Note to self.
It was nice to see a familiar face. She and I don't spend a lot of time together, so I was looking forward to the evening's activity. Another familiar face stepped into our room. And then another. This was getting awkward.
Here I was. 3 months till forty. Married. Two kids. Rapidly frizzing hair. Heals. And my first speed dating event. Speed dating. Yes, that's what i said. I'd always wanted to try it, so I jumped at the chance when my invite arrived last month. Speed dating. The idea of going from person to person, quickly showing my best side. Or my worst. Or their worst. Which is worse?
My husband didn't even seem to mind. He even let me borrow his convertible? Speed dating. Thompson Hotel. Bring it on.
So, before you think that i'm totally deranged, (wait, is it too late?) let me explain.
This SPEED DATING event was organized by a business group. The idea was not for me to find a new husband. Or a new boyfriend. Or even anything in between. The point of this delicious night was for like-minded women to get together and mingle. WOMEN. My first attempt to speed date, and not a straight man in sight. Sigh.
What seemed like a silly idea was actually quite wonderful. Our evening started out with a young and talented 26 year old playing his guitar and singing his heart out to us. As we swayed to the sounds of I'm Yours and then my personal favourite, Santeria, we nibbled on tasty victuals. Steamed crab legs, mussels, shrimp, and oysters. A cheese board filled the entire table. The drinks were interesting and generous and the mood was set just so.
When the formal part of the evening began, I was a bit unsure. Sure it was fine to chat with these ladies, but did I really want to get involved in these pre-planned questions?
1) If you could invite 6 people to dinner who would they be and why? Um, that's a tough one. And the answers were amazing. Funny to hear who would include their husbands. I surely didn't. The woman next to me was inviting hers, and JESUS. She said she had a great thing going. With both of them. She had some other very evolved and interesting guests to add to her table. After her cool answers, I was nervous to give mine. How shallow could i be?
I was honest. It would definitely be my college ex, Brian. (see older posts) I'd do anything to have an evening to clear up the mess I made in 1995. I'd also invite my dad's older sister who passed away many years ago. She was a fireball and would add drama to any dinner party. Patrick from Train still melts my heart. As does Matthew McConaughey. I added a few others, none all that notable.
2) What one change would you make in life if you could? That was a tough one. Again, the ladies had interesting answers. Mine was vain but honest. Would NEVER have gained those crazy pounds (twice) with my babies.
The other questions were equally thought provoking and a lot of fun. Everyone had promised a code of silence (or is it cone of silence?), so as the evening progressed, our most personal stories flowed.
At the end of the party, we were all laughing and enjoying. We had left our spouses and offspring behind. The night was spent chatting with old friends and new. The music was terrific. The food was perfect too. I realized as the night ended, that I had really had a terrific time.
I learned that speed dating is a cool party concept. Even with a group of women. And the Thompson Hotel, like NYC where I think it was born, is never a bad idea...
I didn't have time or the inclination to worry about a sexy outfit, so i stepped into my old faithfuls. The black crepe-y tunic and my favourite extra tight black leggings. Mostly it's in my head, but i feel 10 pounds lighting in those said "pants". Because tonight was extra special, I took off the birkenstocks that had so lovingly moulded to my feet and sparked a pair of nude heels. I was as ready as i was going to be.
When the valet took my car, he confirmed the fact that my leggings were working. Fine, maybe it was the convertible, but he seemed to think i was all that. Maybe and a bag of chips too. I probably should have been more anxious. I probably should have had my nails done. Or tried more earnestly to straighten my hair. Actually, what i really should have tried was a shower. But i digress.
When the host of the evening greeted me, I felt like an excited teenager. I was only mildly disappointed when I was told that we would have to move to the basement. Due to the inclement weather, it wasn't a great plan to use the glamorous, swanky rooftop we've all come to know and love. The basement was better anyway. Darker. More intimate. Better A/C.
I was among the to arrive. Together with the two hosts, I helped with a bit of last minute planning. Where would the food go? The music? How would we arrange the chairs for the evening.
I was happy when my girlfriend walked in. She looked quite lovely. She was in her favourite outfit too(or so she said). Unlike what I had put on, she actually managed to find a sweet skirt. Skirts are lovely. Definitely better than my lycra "pants". I should find a skirt one of these days. Note to self.
It was nice to see a familiar face. She and I don't spend a lot of time together, so I was looking forward to the evening's activity. Another familiar face stepped into our room. And then another. This was getting awkward.
Here I was. 3 months till forty. Married. Two kids. Rapidly frizzing hair. Heals. And my first speed dating event. Speed dating. Yes, that's what i said. I'd always wanted to try it, so I jumped at the chance when my invite arrived last month. Speed dating. The idea of going from person to person, quickly showing my best side. Or my worst. Or their worst. Which is worse?
My husband didn't even seem to mind. He even let me borrow his convertible? Speed dating. Thompson Hotel. Bring it on.
So, before you think that i'm totally deranged, (wait, is it too late?) let me explain.
This SPEED DATING event was organized by a business group. The idea was not for me to find a new husband. Or a new boyfriend. Or even anything in between. The point of this delicious night was for like-minded women to get together and mingle. WOMEN. My first attempt to speed date, and not a straight man in sight. Sigh.
What seemed like a silly idea was actually quite wonderful. Our evening started out with a young and talented 26 year old playing his guitar and singing his heart out to us. As we swayed to the sounds of I'm Yours and then my personal favourite, Santeria, we nibbled on tasty victuals. Steamed crab legs, mussels, shrimp, and oysters. A cheese board filled the entire table. The drinks were interesting and generous and the mood was set just so.
When the formal part of the evening began, I was a bit unsure. Sure it was fine to chat with these ladies, but did I really want to get involved in these pre-planned questions?
1) If you could invite 6 people to dinner who would they be and why? Um, that's a tough one. And the answers were amazing. Funny to hear who would include their husbands. I surely didn't. The woman next to me was inviting hers, and JESUS. She said she had a great thing going. With both of them. She had some other very evolved and interesting guests to add to her table. After her cool answers, I was nervous to give mine. How shallow could i be?
I was honest. It would definitely be my college ex, Brian. (see older posts) I'd do anything to have an evening to clear up the mess I made in 1995. I'd also invite my dad's older sister who passed away many years ago. She was a fireball and would add drama to any dinner party. Patrick from Train still melts my heart. As does Matthew McConaughey. I added a few others, none all that notable.
2) What one change would you make in life if you could? That was a tough one. Again, the ladies had interesting answers. Mine was vain but honest. Would NEVER have gained those crazy pounds (twice) with my babies.
The other questions were equally thought provoking and a lot of fun. Everyone had promised a code of silence (or is it cone of silence?), so as the evening progressed, our most personal stories flowed.
At the end of the party, we were all laughing and enjoying. We had left our spouses and offspring behind. The night was spent chatting with old friends and new. The music was terrific. The food was perfect too. I realized as the night ended, that I had really had a terrific time.
I learned that speed dating is a cool party concept. Even with a group of women. And the Thompson Hotel, like NYC where I think it was born, is never a bad idea...
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