Happy Halloween, all!

A moment of weakness

I woke up this morning feeling terribly homesick for London. Maybe not London itself, but my life back there. Or mostly just my friends.

It was Brr's birthday, and I knew she'd gone through a big and eventful year. It shocked me to realize how disconnected I had grown from one of my closest friends, and suddenly, being at the receiving end of an email, no matter how detailed, simply wasn't enough. Nothing was enough unless I could be there to give her an enormous hug and reassure her that life doesn't start going downhill from 26. Trust me, I'd know. And all of a sudden I just had to speak to them all.

Called the Bart first.
"Hello?""Hey, Bart, its me!"
"Are you coming to my wedding?" (the Bart is getting married in January, and imbecile that I am, I hadn't as yet responded on my attendance.)
"Well the thing is, err..., you know, I mean the wedding is in India. I don't have leave! I have to go to India in December to meet the mater & pater, can't go again in January!"
"Whatever. You better be there."
"Erm, you know, I wish I could, seriously,..."
"Whatever. You better be there."
Sigh. "Okay fine I'll come down. Hell, you are one of my closest friends after all!"
And such is how I somehow caught myself promising to go to India. Even though I wouldn't have the leave. Even though I wouldn't have the money. Still, it filled my heart and I was ecstatic. I hadnt' realised just how bad I'd been feeling till then.

I called Brr after that, knowing it would be in the middle of her birthday celebrations.
"Fishali, hi, sho gladshyou called, I mish u and nowshyou called and whenshyou coming in deshember cosh we wanna shee you!"
Something like that it sounded. That's what you get for calling someone in the middle of their celebrations, I suppose. But all the same, sounded just like ol'Brr.
"26, so old!" I told her, forgetting I'd meant to reassure.
What are friends for, eh.

After I hung up the phone with Brr, I just sat in my room staring into space for the longest time. Some of you may point out that's what I do when I'm at work every day. But this was different. This was a moment replete with the kind of emotional reminiscence that had struck me silent.

Boy, I can't wait to go back to London again in December.

A perfect wedding

We went to a friend's wedding this past weekend. A poignantly intimate affair in a historic country mansion, in the heart of rural Vermont. The kind of wedding where only the closest friends and family were present. Where every single person there represented intimate stories and fond memories to the couple. To be honest I felt a bit of an intruder in this tearful setting, having only recently met the others present.

Still, I wouldn't have missed if for the world, having returned, as I did, with an intense myriad of emotions and memories.

Certain scenes from the weekend will always stay with me as flashes of memory.

Peeking out of the room window to a verdant view of Vermont countryside ablaze in all the hues of it's fall glory.

A long morning hike through the woods, and the moment of exhilaration when we suddenly broke into a clearing and realized we had reached the top of the mountain. Glancing up through the lattice network of leaves at patches of bright blue sky. Or down towards our feet at the velvety carpet of autumnal leaves. Gazing around us at the wooded forest, falling away down the mountainside. Silenced by the majesty of it all. At that moment, we could well have been the only people in the world.

A midnight walk through the fields, to gaze at the clustered stars, all jostling each other for sky space. And then a loose horse approached us in the dark, nuzzling up to us in much the same way we would have expected of a dog. I'll always remember that moment, standing there in the middle of the chilly field, in the overpowering darkness of the night, still in satin dress and stiletto sandals, gently petting and murmuring to the gorgeous horse.

But most strikingly of all, I was amazed by the wedding itself. The simple sophistication of it all. The sincerity of the vows, the intimacy of the guests, the tears of the groom. How warmly I was welcomed and included by everyone. The live jazz band, the late nights of wine, laughter, music and dancing. And of course, the midnight emergency kitchen raids.

During our drive up to Vermont, Delta and I had listed things in our lives that were Perfect. A song we'd heard. A food we'd tasted. Towards the end of the weekend, as celebrations were dying down, I turned back to Delta. "Now this is perfect," I indicated the wedding. He grinned. There could be no debate.

My true boss

"Ficali, have an airborne."
"But Fran, I'm not ill!"
"Have an airborne."
"Why? I don't even feel a cold coming on."
"Just have an airborne!"
"But - sigh. What's the point. Okay fine."

So I had an airborne.

"Good. Now, who takes care of you?!"
"Erm.... you?"
"Good."

Safe to say, our receptionist is the boss of me.

Pet Central

This past weekend, Doobie and I had offered to dog-sit for Sarah while she did the Avon Breast Cancer walk around New York. So while Sarah trudged and furrowed through over thirty miles of unchartered urban territory, Doobie and I volunteered to take the dog down to Central Park and laze around in the sun.

Sounded like the pleasant end of the deal. Especially since Bella really is one of the most affectionate and well-behaved dogs I've ever chanced to encounter. (Other than the fact that she doesn't realise, as she makes herself entirely at home in my lap, that she's rather the same size as me. But it's only fair to overlook the lack of spatial conception in animals, I suppose.)

And all was going so well, as we trundled through the sunshine-dappled path together, Doobie and me catching up on on the past week, and Bella sniffing the daisies or whatever had her pre-occupied.

And then the inevitable happened. The moment I'd been dreading all along. She decided to take a dump. And at once, she was transformed in my mind from a sweet angel to a depiction or horror.

And OMG OMG but she pooped some serious monster poop!!! I still find it somewhat disconcerting to conceive of a middle-sized dog doing an elephant poop.

I turned to Doobie in horror. "Erm, your turn," I said weakly, "I'll do the next one". Doobie'd never cleaned dog poop before and I thought it only fair that she learn one of life's hardest lessons.

We had wanted to get a dog ourselves, once we moved into the new apartment. Oh boy, that aint happenin' now.

Sweet Bella

Bella the Poop Monster

Something's afoot

Yesterday, on my way home from work, I saw Salman Rushdie sitting in our local diner. Right there, in our booth. Eating his eggs scrambled, just like I do. It must be a sign. Of what, I don't know, but it must be. I mean, Salman Rushdie for crying out loud! And in my diner!

I paused to gawp through the glass storefront for a while but etiquette demanded that I move on, so after a moment, I bumbled on homewards. It did occur to me, as I picked up the mail and shuffled up the countless stairs, that seeing as I'd only seen the shiny pate of his balding head, it didn't have to be Salman Rushdie. In fact, come to think of it, it could pretty much have been any distinguished gentleman with a receded hairline.

But frankly, I still prefer to believe it was ol' Salman. In my diner, sitting in my booth, eating my eggs. It must be a sign. Not quite sure of what, but I'm right tingling with anticipatory delight.

Escape to Cape Cod

Doobie, Neha, Sarah, Jenn, Dougal, Danny, Jessica - an exhausted snack after cycling

The Provincetown seafront - stunning!

This past weekend found the entire motley crew at Cape Cod. Cerrulean skies, azure seas, golden sunshine, sandy beaches - who could ask for more. But still, if ya could believe it, there was more. There was a charming shingled cottage, an outdoor patio, a seafood barbecue, a leisurely bike ride along the seacoast. And of course, gustatory and inebriative indulgence a la Dionysus. Charming.

On the drive up, we had barely left the tenacious claws of city traffic, when we pulled over at a diner for our first pause and some dinner. Doobie and I went all out - for after all a weekend break is a weekend break - it should bear none of the constraints of real life - so appetizers, burgers, dessert (some squabbling over which one to choose, but chocolate won as always) it was. Sarah tried to be healthy, and ordered a salad, but oh boy never order a salad in a diner! We all stared at the wilted vegetation on her plate in horror. She valiantly said she was full after the meal, but then talked about grilled cheese sandwiches for the rest of the drive up the coast, so go figure.

When we finally made it to Provincetown, well into the depths of the evening, we were caught entirely off guard. Why had nobody warned us it was the flaming gay capital of the East Coast? No harm in that, of course, except that when one isn't expecting it, and one suddenly drives into a town full of trucker dudes holding hands, it can certainly elicit the odd twitch of surprize.

Not that anything like that would stop us wild souls, of course. So we biked up and down the course, with Bella, Sarah's faithful hound (and Doobie/my protege for next weekend!), galloping along beside us. We cooked up a whole seafood barbecue, and as we sat down on the patio to eat salad, salmon and skewered scallops and prawns (no hotdogs or burgers or dirty campfood in sight), we surprised ourselves by how much we were turning into our parents.

It was a long weekend, but an eventful one, and a sleepless one. As we parted ways at the end, happy but exhausted, we couldn't help already exclaiming in anticipation of our thanksgiving weekend together.