Caterwauling

Broad Street, Philly

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

So my beloved L and I made reservations at Lola last night.

And although DaDa will always be “our” place, Lola is a very close second in our eyes.

Of course, anywhere that we can order cheese for every course is A-OK by us!

She said there was something different about me last night. I was relaxed in a way I simply haven’t been during the six months she’s been in town.

We attribute it to Philadelphia. I mean, why not, right? 😉

Maybe it’s bigger than that. I really am relaxed about a lot of things right now. When we met, I was in a job that felt about as comfortable as shoving a grown-up size 8 foot into a baby shoe with brute force.

And turning 36 last month wasn’t a huge deal for me, but whereas other people’s biological clocks start to tick, my “my life is half over and what do I have to show for it?” station started to play on my internal clock-radio.

But what I didn’t realize as I was trying to hit “snooze” with a hammer and the song kept playing louder and louder, was that I had experienced way more than I gave myself credit for. And it took going away to see that.

I always felt kind of stunted when it came to matters of the heart. I made a good career and as good a life as I could. But I always felt that I never managed to love or be loved.

And while, one one hand, that’s life … on the other hand, it’s like how can such a reasonably intelligent individual have failed at what some of the stupidest people on earth have found?

And with just a couple of days, the vortex of confusion and self-pity in my head has calmed down considerably. I’ve realized I didn’t just “almost” have it all. I’ve had everything and then some … and perhaps I’ve had it even better than the people who claim they have it better than anyone else.

What I’ve had may have been brief, but it’s been real.

And unlike a certain boy that L used to know, I have far from peaked. He’s wasted every chance and ruined every life that he’s come across. So now he’s in search of the meaning of life in New Age hocus-pocus. (Good luck in that month-long sweat lodge visit where you’re staring at corpulent men in tiny towels. I’m sure THAT will fix your broken soul. *snort*)

It’s in talking with my friends and finding about the douchenozzles they’ve encountered that makes me doubly blessed A) to have such wonderful, worldly friends, and B) that I don’t think I’ve ever actually felt my time was wasted by anyone I’ve loved or been loved by.

So, the calmness you see might be alcohol-induced at times. But it’s mostly a general peace now that the universe hasn’t been withholding anything from me and that the best is truly yet to come … and that all I have to do is be on alert to look out for it when it comes, and be open to receiving it.

So I’m not going to blog about what happened tonight, other than champagne/pinot/mojitos at Il Bacio and dinner at Blue Fish.

I’m not going to post that I met somebody with whom I went to college, who graduated the same year I was supposed to, and the people we knew in common.

I won’t post how he still has anger toward one of my favorite, uh, lays of all time.

I won’t post how badly he begged me to come back to his hotel room last night.

I won’t post how tempted I might have been.

What a weird little night. Good in so many ways. Strange in so many others.

I will be in Baltimore again soon enough. If he wants to see me then, fine. If I blew my chance now, so be it.

My mind is elsewhere right now. Be warned, boys. Be warned.

Biggest HD TV in the world

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

I’m always surprised by inquiries about my adventures, whether in the “who” is asking, or the “why.”

What’s funny is that I readily put my life “out there.” (hello again, air quotes!), so it always amazes me when people assume that they only have a fraction of the story.

And boy, do they ever!

I am one of those lone observers in the world. I used to do it for writing inspiration. But now that I only really write about the stock market … and from other people’s point of view, at that (*heavy sigh at my bygone byline days*) … I try to keep some of my observations in my head. For when I need them someday.

And the thing I observed recently is this: People will think what they will. Just as you are busy observing them, they are watching you right back. Some are subtle about it; others are obvious in their watching and wondering.

But once in a while, you find yourself being the observed … of being the one absolutely living in the moment … the one the rest of the world is — I dunno — envying?

It’s hard to explain without concrete examples. But between laughter and escape and everything in-between, coming up for air always yields some fascinating results.

I almost want to ask people what they’re thinking when they watch me (whether I’m alone or not). But I don’t have to guess too hard, I’m sure.

You wonder if they know you’re as happy as you are. Then you wonder whether they know you’re not a thing like you probably seem to them. And then you wonder whether they think you might just be fooling yourself that you’re as carefree as you’re conveying.

And then you realize you don’t give a shit either way. Because happiness — whether effortless or evolved from a series of events — is still happiness. And I ain’t above being in love with life wherever possible.

Whether it’s escape from one thing, or immersion in another or — most likely — a magical combination thereof — it’s not to be passed up when it presents itself.

And to those to whom I’ve been extra-nice these past few days, it’s not you … it’s me. 🙂

Nasdaq/OMX — Philadelphia Stock Exchange

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

I spent the last four days in the Philadelphia/South Jersey area. I fell in love with the city proper. Had a decent steak (and a horrible bottle of wine, which was my own fault for *only* wanting to pay $60 for the A-to-Z) at Butcher & Singer.

(But the community hash brown? Best thing on the table!)

Off topic, the fake palm trees at B&S? Made me miss my real ones. I’m on the plane heading back to them now. …

But the culinary highlights were found going to and from the Liberty Bell, as we allotted Friday morning for touron activities before I drove her to the airport.

I got to a Corner Bakery (God, I’ve missed those!) where my friend bought me a cinnamon crème cake slice, as I’d been yapping about it ever since I introduced her to Elephant & Castle for breakfast. (Double NOM.) And I bought her a mojito lemonade at Cosi (another place I CRAVE) while I got to try their new sangria. (*slurp*)

Then I met up with a long-lost friend and we hightailed it to the Atlantic City area, where another great friend invited us to hang out with him by the shore for the weekend.

He recommended the Ocean Holiday Motor Lodge. My skin crawled at the name as my friend typed the phone number into my iPad as I took the call on the boardwalk (which had outstanding pizza at Mack’s and a top-notch mango-orange smoothie).

I realize all I do is talk about food, which explains why the re-pudgification process is under way. But my AC-resident friend loaded us up with bottles of extraordinary wine on Friday and Saturday nights, and cooked scallops (for me!) and filet mignons on his new searer on Saturday. It was extraordinary.

He recommended McGlade’s on the Pier in Cape May for breakfast today, on the promise of “You have GOT to try cream cheese on your omelets. You will NEVER go back!”

So I treated my friend to a father’s day brunch at this omelet mecca. And holy shit, my asparagus, crabmeat and cream cheese omelet provided a religious experience that totally excused my lack of going to church today. Nom. ;9

The weekend was fairly extraordinary. I met both of my boys’ families. I always love seeing people in their “natural habitat.” And I also love being someone else for the weekend, myself.

Or maybe instead of saying that I pretend to be someone else, perhaps it’s that I actually AM myself on these weekend expeditions.

I had an incredible business meeting on Thursday in the city and met an incredibly dynamic power player in my field. Who wants to work with me.

It always impresses me when I don’t outright offend people, but he took me and my female friend out for drinks in the French Quarter area in several places.

(Most memorably, the rooftop bar at the Continental – divine!) And he is best buds with the guy I came to visit in AC, so that didn’t hurt my credibility in the least.

Sometimes I feel like Kevin Bacon, with the six degrees of separation that’s going on in my world. But that would be bacon with cream cheese, like my friend’s omelet. I didn’t try it but damn, it looked good!

(It always comes back to the food. Keeps me from typing anything I shouldn’t!)

I’ll just say it was a wonderful four days that I won’t be forgetting anytime soon.

While I was driving through Jersey today where I had a rare “stop and wonder” moment. And we joked that there really was one way in this world that my mother would NOT have been able to come and live with me. And that I can totally blame him for it. 😉

But alas, perhaps life – warts and all – happened the way it was supposed to. I’d never have gotten to D.C. … or Florida … or come up to visit my friend at the Nasdaq or the one in AC because I never would have met any of them if I weren’t on this particular path.

And I don’t know that I’d be as whole or at least functional as I am now, had I not gotten some sun and some perspective. Maybe I would have just found a different type of happiness.

But almost 10 years later, there’s still happiness to be found, right where I wasn’t even looking for it.

Imagine all the magic we’d find if we actually kept an eye out for it. But damn, it’s nice to see it (again), hold on to it and squeeze out every last drop.

Key lime pie French toast

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

In my field, you spend your workdays with Warren Buffett.

But I’m pleased to say that last weekend, the lovely L and I escaped to the land of Jimmy Buffett … and Ernest Hemingway … and Harry S. Truman … and Tennessee Williams — that is, Key West.

Pictured is an honest-to-goodness piece of key lime pie on Texas toast with berry compote from Azur.

Not pictured is the “key lime food baby” that is very happy from the other goodies we ingested …. the world’s best key lime pie at Blond Giraffe … key lime hollandaise over a lobster (with lobster bacon!) omelet at Blue Heaven …. key limeade at Mallory Square … and other such non-key-lime noms as hogfish and steak at Pisces, a Cuban sandwich at, well, some Cuban place … coconut milk straight from the coconut at Cuban Coffee Queen … and whatever the hell else we had in between.

Oh, and Sloppy Joe’s. Best bar EVER. With ’80s music. Like Bon Jovi. Plus, frozen mango mojitos. Need I say more?

The trip was more than a foodie’s delight, what with the ghost tour, the trolley tour and the shopping. And Baby’s Coffee. But wow, what a weekend.

Can’t wait for the next time we hit the Keys … Islamorada, here we come!!!

OK, “love” is pushing it a bit. In fact, what’s love got to do with it? Nothing, my dear. Nothing. But there’s a story in here somewhere.

I stop at 7-Eleven a couple of days a week. The one across the Intracoastal from me has blueberry-flavored coffee. And since it takes me a good half-hour to get to work, that daily infusion of 16 ounces of pure caffeine has saved my sanity (and perhaps my job) on many occasions.

I typically get there during the late-7 a.m. hour. On occasion I get there just after 8 a.m., like today. And I see the same guy there in the white car. I catch him looking at me from time to time. I’ve never said hi or made an attempt to make eye contact.

Seriously, I know better than to speak to anyone before 9 a.m. (I wish my mother would, after 36 years of me being alive, realize that.)

Anyway, the last time I saw him, his girlfriend had met up with him at 7-Eleven. He had driven there, and she had literally run there — I saw her in a mad sprint. After I got my steaming cup of glorious wonder, I saw him leaning against his car while she was screaming and crying into her cell phone.

He looked nonplussed — not really annoyed or inconvenienced. Just, like he had gone to a place in his head where there was sunshine and puppies and rainbows and shit.

I almost stopped to ask him if she was OK … if they needed help. But then the northerner in me kicked in and figured, fuck it, there’s probably nothing I can do and besides, I’ll be late for work.

I’ve often wondered whether that were one of those “God moments,” in which I could have been a blessing to someone, instead of being kind of appalled at the thought of not getting on right away with my hot coffee date with myself.

So I saw the guy again today. I was exiting the store and he had just pulled up. He sat there and watched me get into my car. No eye contact, of course — seriously, I had a late night with delicious, albeit insufficient, amounts of food and I was preoccupied with today’s deadlines.

A part of me wanted to ask him if things were OK. And another part of me figured that he is like me and hopes no one sees or, worse, remembers, the less-than-pulled-together moments.

And I wondered, since I pretend not to watch him watching me, what might be running through his mind. Perhaps I’m still high off seeing “Sex and the City 2,” but I’m always writing a column in my mind, and today’s question is, “Who do people think I am?”

I don’t really dress up for work, but I try to pull outfits together. (Old Navy ahoy!) I always have some expensive perfume or another. (Michael Kors’ Very Hollywood today.) Always bejeweled. (Big fan of one statement piece, preferably one that I picked up somewhere in my travels.) Always silent. Usually with half a smile, knowing that my coffee and I are about to have a rendezvous.

And I wondered, after seeing his hot mess of a girlfriend, how I seem in comparison. Probably calm. Perhaps poised. Maybe like I either have it all under control or that I don’t have a care in the world, just as long as the blueberry coffee is brewed when I get there.

What nobody sees is that my mom is up my ass the minute I wake up. Today she came in asking for toilet paper, because I haven’t bought any in a while and the half-roll in my bathroom is the only sign of it in the house.

Nobody saw me fighting to zip my favorite jeans and bursting into tears at the mega-muffin-top. I changed into a skirt that was falling off my hips at this time last year (barely zipped that fucker up but it looks better than those jeans).

But then my favorite top in my closet, I discovered upon putting it on, has a residual salad dressing stain from a business lunch (gah) at The Office. A top that always gets me compliments because the color actually works on me.

So, I “saved” the shirt with a sparkly little brooch. Only I (and the blogosphere, now) know about the stain it covers. Perhaps to the outside eye, I can accessorize. But to me, I am getting one more damn wearing out of this cheap Old Navy shirt that will probably fall apart after one more wash anyway. 🙂

In any event, I always see that guy in dress shirts and dress pants. I assume he has a good job. I assume he’s quiet and sweet and perhaps reliable, since he’s always at 7-Eleven at 8:10 a.m. on the dot when I happen to be there at the same time. And I guess I always thought he had a calm, peaceful, easy life till I saw his personal hot mess … and I’d still think that, if I hadn’t witnessed that scene a couple of weeks ago.

Funny how we project an image — whether purposely or subconsciously — and, when it comes down to it, most of our lives look nothing like what others see as our surface.

Most of us can only wish that we were the people our pets, and outsiders, think we are. But for all our flaws and the hot messes in our lives — even if we are our own hot messes — I should hope we’re all a little more interesting beneath the surface than we see.