Hartford has had the frozen heavens dump upon us about every five days since the day after Christmas. Yesterday’s special was 4 inches of snow just in time for morning rush hour, followed by an inch of icy glaze, just in time for evening rush hour. No need to rent skates since your snow boots will work just fine on the slip’n’slidewalks. Too bad the ice means the end of all the kids sledding on the big hill behind the capital building. And I use the term “kids” loosely *cough*.
The above jack-o-lantern peanut gallery is on the street behind me. They look even better at night all lit up, but of course every time I’ve seen them lit I didn’t have my camera on me.
I had a quiet Halloween, no costumeparties this year, very low-key, but after a crazy month at work (including a week – while suffering a horrible cold – in my home-away-from-home Chicago), a night with badmovies and laundry folding is a welcome respite.
In related Halloween news, one of my neighbors is again secretly leaving candy in a bowl by the elevator on my floor. Yum!
I know, I know, no new posts for a month. What a lame blogger. Even my mom has been giving me a hard time about it. Nothing has inspired me lately, and in fact the month has flown right past me in a blur. I had a big conference in Chicago at the end of April, followed by a long weekend in Phoenix to visit a dear friend and recuperate from the week in Chicago (and while in Phoenix, A. and I did our fair share of economy-boosting for the shoe industry, specifically Donald J. Pliner, but I digress).
Perhaps I was on blog overload. Coming home to a Google Reader with close to 1000 unread posts was a bit overwhelming, I must say. "Mark all as read" seemed a bit like abandoning someone else's children, but I had to do it.
So maybe this bit of silliness will put me back to rights. A little Life in Technicolor, a la Punch & Judy, via Coldplay, in honor of the absolutely fantastic concert of theirs I attended last night here in Hartford. The tix were a birthday gift from The BF, who gave me a small case of Option Anxiety earlier in the day by offering me a choice of birthday activities, each of which involved some sort of live performance. After an afternoon of deliberating the merits of each, I went with the one that seemed the most celebratory, and a good time was had by all.
More Coldplay/puppet action here, if you are so inclined.
We are fortunate to have in Our Fair City of Hartford the country's oldest public art museum, a treasure chest of masterworks by everyone from Caravaggio to Mondrian to the most recent (as in "last week") acquisition, Slightly Open Clam Shell by Georgia O'Keefe. The museum's castle-like facade, complete with battlements and leaded glass, is often festooned with enormous banners advertising the latest exhibition, usually with a close-up of one of the artworks, to entice one to come in. Or, in the case of Folkert de Jong in Watou, to totally creep one out. To wit:
Creepy, right? Good morning Mr. MeltyFace. You know what is even creepier? The sculptures are life size or larger. Enormous. 8 -10 feet tall. They are made of Styrofoam and polyurethane, materials chosen specifically for their manipulative qualities as for their significance as elements of war, impermeability and toxicity. The figures depict a David and Goliath-like representation of Spain vs The Netherlands during the Eighty Years War that began in the 16th century. I understand the use of the grotesque in art. Compelling, historical stuff, a la Picasso's Guernica. But I could not stop thinking:
There is nothing like a nice dinner out. In Downtown Hartford, and the surrounding towns, there are a lot of great places to eat. I am fortunate in that The BF also appreciates good restaurants, and most Saturday nights find us enjoying a cold martini followed by a lovely meal and some great wine. We like the whole experience that a good restaurant offers: a little chit-chat with the bartender while he shakes up the vodka or gin and tries to remember which of us ordered the olives (me) or the lemon twist (The BF). Debating staying at the bar so we can sit cozily side-by-side vs moving to a table. Sharing an appetizer, weighing the merits of various entrees, picking a wine, having a three-hour conversation about everything and nothing. We appreciate the whole experience that has been created for us - the food, the service, the decor, the ambiance. But not necessarily the music. The music befuddles. When I think marble bar/white tablecloth/martini/wine/etc, I think jazz, standards, accoustic, maybe somethig electronic, but all in the name of background music. Aural wallpaper to complement the Scalamandre grasscloth and alabaster chandeliers, to sparkle behind the patrons' dialogue, to bookend the beginnings and ends of conversations. I don't think Creedence. Or Jimi Hendrix. Or Cat Stevens.
I was in three different fine dining establishments this past weekend: two with The BF on Saturday night (one for a drink and a different one for dinner) and one with my family for Easter. In all three instances, the artfully-designed decor, first-class service* and excellent food was curiously set against an backdrop of '70s rock: CCR, Led Zep, Fleetwood Mac, Queen. Great stuff, in a grammar-school-flashback kind of way. Or a beer-and-burgers-on-the-beach kind of way. Or a hanging-out-at-home kind of way. I don't get it. Why would a restauranteur spend a million dollars on opening a restaurant, creating a menu, designing a space, praying for a good review and a crowd that keeps coming despite the ups and downs of the economy, and then leave the Muzak station on Seventies Rock? You've taken a wonderful little experience and tainted it. It's not ironic, or charming, or clever, it's kind of obnoxious, in an ambiance-be-damned-this-is-what-I/the-staff-likes kind of way. And if that is who you are catering to, I am afraid for your business.
*Okay, the service at the place we went to on Easter was more grandmotherly than first-class, but still...
**The BF took this picture, on a hot summer Saturday night in NYC, at Restaurant Felix. The food is amazing, and the music is a mix of French jazz/electonic lounge/music hall (think Pink Martini). A delicious end to a wonderful day. If you go, be sure to sit in the window so you can watch the street theater that is West Broadway. We watched one couple on a blind date, another couple breaking up, and a Vespa-riding cross-dresser wearing a fur coat and a wig (in August). Oh, and did I mention the food was fantastic?
Pictured above and below are a few of the many items featured at the Sugarloaf Craft Festival, traveling the East Coast and coming to Hartford this weekend, March 27-29. If you are local and would like to attend, leave a comment and you could win some of the free tickets the organizers were kind enough to send to me specifically to share with you.
Please leave your comment (or email me) by midnight Tuesday so I can mail you your tickets in time for you to use them this weekend.
{Matthew Modine and I, apparently about to break into a tango. Sorry about the bad photo quality, blame my iPhone}
Earlier this month the BF and I went to a swanky fundraiser for the local arts council, where we tasted lots of wine, sampled food from local restaurants, schmoozed, and bid on silent auction items that we didn't win (we forgot to keep going back to check on our items and were quickly outbid by others. This is what happens when you stop tasting wine and move on to martinis). Amidst the crowd of local business tycoons, non-profit leaders, arts execs and hoi polloi like ourselves was a tall dark & handsome guy that I kept thinking I knew, in a "did I go to high school with him" kind of way. Um, no, actually it was more like "did I have mad crush on him while I was in high school and he was starring in Vision Quest*".
Matthew Modine, one of the objects of my teenage affection, is in town in rehearsals for To Kill A Mockingbird at our (Tony Award-winning, thank you) regional theater and came to the fundraiser with the theater prinicipals. We don't get a lot of big stars in town so when one is in our midst the reactions range from stammeringly starstruck to ridiculously over-familiar. I was somewhere in between, but the real estate developer who owns the building where I work falls in the latter category, shouting out (like they are old pals) "Hey Matthew, Robin would like a photo with you" as Matthew entered the room we were in. Thankfully, Mr. Modine was not only gracious about the whole thing, but a little corny, hence the cheesy prom pose (as he put it) above. We even had a nice conversation about how rehearsals were going, how he liked Hartford, etc. He is very charming and looks you right in the eye when he speaks to you. My teenage crush is renewed.
*Yeah, now you have Madonna's Crazy For You stuck in your head don't you? Me too.
Every time I find a scent I love at Bath & Body Works, they go and discontinue it. Every time. First it was Honey Almond - wonderful, not too food-y smelling. Then it was Fresh Ginger Lime, which was really refreshing in summer. Then it was Rice Flower & Shea, which was light and smelled great layered with almost any perfume, and now it's Brown Sugar & Fig.
I asked two different sales associates why they discontinued certain flavors and not others and got two different answers: 1) "They didn't sell well enough" (understandable. Hard to believe because they are delicious scents, but whatever) and 2) "We discontinue some to encourage you to buy others".
Huh?
You are discontinuing (yet again) a product that made me like you in the first place so you can force me to try something you think I should like better? I trudge all the way to the mall specifically to buy this specific product (okay, and maybe some shoes, and Sephora is just across the way, but I digress) and you think taking it away is going to make me more loyal? The basic principle of the law of supply and demand is that there is some supply to begin with.
Thank goodness for the "fond farewell" section of the BBW website, even if you have to dig on their site to get to it.
{Not from my event, but I thought the picture was funny. From Southern Living. They thought it was funny too.}
If you think the life of an event planner is all champagne and parties and oh-so-glamorous, I wish you were with me at 7 this morning. I was trekking around chilly downtown Hartford, supervising the installation of port-o-lets for the CT Veterans Day Parade tomorrow. It's the only public (or local) event my company produces, and every year at this time we remember why it's the only one. But that's another story. Today I want to tell you about my new friends Angel and Luis, who got up even earlier than I did (and please remember I am not a morning person) to drive down from Massachusetts and deliver 20 'olets to various locations along the parade route. These guys have it down to a science. First they are driving huge tank trucks, pulling even larger trailers, which are not easy to maneuver on some of our famously stupid and narrow one-way streets. Then the 'olets themselves are unwieldy - large, bottom-heavy, and filled with whatever mysterious blue liquid they use to hide the basest of human activity. But they slide them off the trailer, shift them around a bit, assess the flatness of the area, shift some more, wipe everything down (while wearing big rubber gloves of course), and go get the next one. A thankless job if ever there was one (um, except maybe coming back to pick them up).
No one really likes port-o-lets, our modern-day outhouses. Blech. Big blue reminders of our common human condition. But when you are at a fair, or festival, or parade or other outdoor event, aren't you glad they are there? Whoever dreamed up the fancy looks-like-a-real-bathroom trailer kind was a genius. I wish I had the budget for those for this event.
So if you find yourself in downtown Hartford Sunday for the parade (and if you are local, you should come, it is a kick-ass parade and the weather will be gorgeous), enjoy the bands (more bands than the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, thank you), salute our fine veterans and active-duty military, and give a silent thanks for Angel, Luis, and other people with thankless jobs.
For a week now, I've been getting up before the crack of dawn and going for a brisk nearly-one-hour walk with my neighbor, the lovely Meghan of Ladies In Waiting. Her sweet teddy of a goldendoodle, Boddington (aka The Bods) accompanies us and, ahem, "protects" us from any unsavory characters. I should preface this by saying that Meghan is a morning person of the highest caliber. The Bods and I are not (Meghan's partner Mo is not either. She's the smart one, home in bed, sleeping). But once we get to walkin' and talkin' (and boy, can we talk!), I'm fully awake and before you know it we have circumnavigated Downtown Hartford and are home-again, home-again.
It's mighty dark at 6:00 am, and will be until daylight savings starts/ends (I can never remember which it is) in two weeks. In between our incessant talking we've noticed that the city has quite a life of its own at that hour. As the sky (very) slowly lightens, a steady stream of traffic starts coming over the bridges from suburbia, and we've remarked on how ungodly early some people head in to their office jobs. It took only three days for us to become "regulars" on our route, greeted amiably by dog-walkers at the new apartments on Temple St., the corporate cafeteria cooks out for a smoke behind one of the insurance companies, and the construction workers headed for the soon-to-be-finished science museum.
One thing about these walks that really, really bothers us is that in some of the office towers, all the lights are on. All the lights. On. All night. I can see it from my apartment before I go to bed, if I get up in the middle of the night, and when I wake up at 5:45. No matter the hour, every light in these buildings is a-blazing. Yeah, yeah, they're fluorescents and CFLs, so what. Why are they on? No one is there. Even the cleaning people are long gone. How much money are they spending on electricity? Sure, it looks pretty, in a "the city never sleeps" kind of way, but in this day and age, is this really the best use of their money and our resources? Make that our money -- Hartford is an insurance and finance town, and some of these companies were recently bailed out by Our Tax Dollars, so technically that's my money and your money that they are wasting.
I'm tempted to call them up and tell them to turn the lights off. How do you think that would go over?
Here is another one, with a great dental plan.
