Laura and TJ Get Married!

Another week-end, another wedding. This past Friday night Laura and TJ got married out in Westchester and I was there, champagne in hand.

However, this wasn't any old exchanging of rings and breaking of glass. I've known Laura and her bevy of bridesmaids since Reagan was in office. We rode the same bus together in middle school, were cheerleaders in high school and slithered into bars together under the guise of fake IDs when we were in college. If an E! True Hollywood Story was ever made about me (which I can almost guarantee you won't happen) I would keep the producers far away from this crowd. They've known me too long, have too many stories, photos and -- I fear -- possibly video.

Nevertheless, it was a beautiful ceremoney at the Glen Island Harbor Club and the reception was a hit, thanks in part to the motley crew at Table Seven. (That would be my table.) We danced and schmoozed and tossed about light-up ice cubes, because it's not a party until the DJ is giving you plastic party favors.

All the photos that I have thus far are on La Flickr. Here are a few to start you off:

Lina and I


Laura and TJ


Colleen Makes Sure Everyone Dances


We Didn't Need Much Convincing


I'm taking off as of this week-end to house sit out in Westport, Connecticut. If you're one of my nefarious Norwalk cohorts, let me know. I'm planning a BBQ of sorts during the week. All the cool kids will be there.

Quickie

I'm off today, so here's a quick link to a piece I wrote for The Simon about the New York City Bag Checks.

See ya.

Kristin and the Bachelorettes!

Sure, getting married is a good time. And bridal showers bring in a lot of quality kitchen products. However, if you're anything like my friends, the real action is at the bachelorette party. There is no dress code (besides the matching T-shirts) no etiquette protocal (besides making sure that everyone has a drink, and Diet Coke doesn't count) and there is no schedule (besides making sure that the minimum of four bars have been visited.)

That said, about two weeks ago a gaggle of us Syracuse Ladies feted Kristin's upcoming nuptuals. It started with a dinner that I've already posted about and then we planned a pub crawl around Chelsea. However, just as we got to Serena (under the Chelsea hotel) everyone's digicams magically died out. Always the innovator, I ran around the corner to the local CVS where I picked up some disposable cameras for the evening. At $2.40 a pop (talk about a sale!) I couldn't help but pick up three.

The enormous batch of photos are all on Flickr, but here are some highlights:

Cocktails!


Singing!


Dancing! [Bonus Points for Being on the Bar]


Merriment!


Fraternizing With the Locals!


And Some Run-of-the-Mill Girl Bonding!


Good times were had by all. Let me know the next time one of you wants to get hitched. I'll come out, camera in hand.

This weekend I'll be at the Kurlander/Hild wedding in New Rochelle. Let's do it up!

Late in the Game

Wow. It's been busy today.

First of all, I should alert the masses that Small Spiral Notebook is looking for some quality submissions of fiction, poetry and the like. Their reading period begins August 1, so hop to it.

Also, am I totally late in the game to notice the Radio feature on iTunes? Even though I have about 800 songs in my queue, I'm starting to get sick of them. So I clicked on the radio and I've heard, "Footloose," "Crazy" (The Britney Spears one) and "Big Time." I'm totally psyched. I know I'm a day late and a dollar short on this one, but whatever. Whoo ha.

It was too hot to run today and so I stayed in and worked on my screenplay project. Initially I didn't think I'd get all that much done since I wasn't feeling all that inspired. But after some deli coffee and a quick Pauline Dance Party to the soundtrack to A Chorus Line, I actually tore through a big chunk. As in, I added about ten pages, which is huge.

I left for work with a strange feeling of elation, as if this project had just moved from second to third gear. Before I felt as if I was just wood chopping, pushing out large chunks of plot and the most rudimentary forms of characters. Now I go through and fill in all the little cracks, making it read more like a story and less like little scenes that popped into my head at two in the morning. Granted the meat of this story was never mine to begin with, which was another source of slight anxiety. How do I, the little hack, do justice to a family's story that's already so rich with detail and drama on its own? True, some things had to be fictionalized just for the sake of dramatic pull. But all in all, I had to stick to the facts ma'am, which is a challenge unto itself.

For whatever reason, though, it seems to be coming together. Maybe it's the intravenous caffeine, maybe it's divine intervention or maybe I actually want to see this thing succeed. Not for my own ego, mind you. There have been many times when I've turned on my laptop and just stared at the words, waiting for the next ones to come, and they never did. And then, maybe about once every two weeks, the needed element has just come to me, sometimes while running, sometimes while staring off into space. Even better is when my partner in crime thinks what I've come up with is a great.

So. Yeah. I feel good about the writing. Our goal of getting this done by the end of August seems completely feasible. Then we'll have to deal with a whole other set of issues. For now, though, I'll settle for ten more pages, or another afternoon like today.

Okay. That was long.

"Love in an Elevator" just came on the iTunes radio. This thing is awesome!

A Most Curious Coincidence...

Here's the story.

On New Year's Eve I met this fun guy named Dave. Dave was a good time and after the party we had eggs and beers at a diner and we realized that we grew up 20 minutes away from each other. I also found it really funny that Dave's dad is a gynecologist. (Because I'm immature.)

Months passed and I never heard from Dave and I was just like, whatever. Then my birthday rolled around and when I turned around at Solas who was standing there, but Dave! Seems my friend Allison is friends with Dave and she had forwarded him the evite for my party, not knowing that we had ever met before. Dave, recognizing my name, swung by. It was a random reunion and we had some laughs but again, I never heard from Dave again.

Fast forward to today, over a month later as I am flipping through my e-mail and looking at the responses from a Profnet query I sent out over the week-end for this article I'm working on. I mentioned earlier that I am looking for experts in the sex and relationships field. I opened one and it read, "Hey, Pauline! It's Dave, your New Year's Eve friend!" He went on to tell me that since his dad is a gyno he might be a good source for advice. (This is actually true...) He also invited me to a party he and his friend are having this week-end. (And it's always nice to be invited...)

What's funnier? Being tracked down every few months by a guy you randomly met at a New Year's Eve party or the fact that said guy is now pimping out his dad for gynecological/sex advice in a men's magazine?

Only in New York. Awesome.

Taking Notes in the Self-Help Section

This past week-end I found myself in the Union Square Barnes and Nobles, researching an article that I'm working on. The piece basically involves a lot of different kinds of experts and I have to dig them up myself. Not so hard for a seasoned hack such as myself, n'est pas?

I did a Profnet search but figured I should also do a little leg work. A lot of the experts I need are in the relaitonship and sex arena, and so I found myself in the rather large self-help section, taking notes on books and authors and things like that. Initially this seemed perfectly normal, since I knew I had an assignment to do. However, self-help is right next to all the magazines, where people like to lurk, and I caught people looking at me as I flipped thorugh books about Mars and Venus in the Bedroom and things like that. I soon became self conscious. Did I look crazy? Did I look like one of those women who suck at the teet of John Gray and Oprah?(Actually, don't answer that...) I left and moved over to the business and management section, hoping to figure out what this Six Sigma nonsense is all about. (I still don't know.)

The rest of the week-end was spent at Velazquez's final party at Apartment 206. It was a ridiculously good time. He's going to send me some photos later on. They should most def be hot.

And yes, I finally figured out how to turn a futon bed into a futon couch. I now have an Extra Plush couch that makes me feel like I'm sitting in the middle of a soft enchilada. So all in all, life is good.

With so many gerbils to care for, our staff have been stretched to the limit...

I found this bizarre story the other day about how an animal rights group in London found 550 gerbils, and probably more, in a home in Southern England.

This is likely the best line in the story, "With so many gerbils to care for, our staff have been stretched to the limit."

Um, aren't gerbils the size of your palm? How could gerbils, even 550 at that, stretch you to the limit?

It's still a funny story. Great for cocktail parties.

Home Improvements

There are certain activities that were designed with more than one person in mind. Checkers. Tandem bicycles. The Hokey-Pokey. After this afternoon's attempts at home improvements, I toss "moving furniture around" into that category.

My plan seemed simple enough: After my morning run I would come home, hose down and set up my new bed and boxspring until the mahogony frame and headboard arrives next week. I would take the futon and frame I've been sleeping on for five years and flip it up into a couch. The cot, which had been serving as a makeshift couch, would get folded up and sent back to Connecticut this week-end. Easy, right?

Wrong. Remember how I mentioned yesterday that I have no upper body strength (probably because I spend all my time running and walking home from work?) That came back to haunt me today. Seems that when I invested $500 in the bed back in 2000, I actually bought a decent piece of furniture. (Who knew?) It has survived three moves, countless boyfriends and one cat. It's also really heavy and my tiny arms could barely push it around. Same goes for the mattress. Since I needed something to sleep on back in 2000 I bought the Extra Plush. The Extra Plush was great for sleeping (it got me through many an overnight shift as well as several boyfriends) but it's also heavy as all hell and doesn't fold well into the couch position.

That said, my plan to turn my home into a Grown Up Apartment with a bed and a frame and a real couch as opposed to a glorified dorm room with mismatched tables failed miserably, because it seems the Extra Plush mattress won't fold up and now there is a lopsised futon in the middle of my floor.

So I don't know what to do. I'm thinking of selling the whole futon to some NYU kid for $100 and buying myself a real couch at (Gasp! What have I become?) Levitz. However, I am glad that I sorted out the whole furniture debacle today while only breaking one drinking glass and knocking over one lamp. (I think it still works.)

So if anyone wants to help me move things around, holla at me!

Another Day in Paradise!

The mattress moving this morning went a lot smoother than planned. Even though my friend Colleen and I have the combined upper body strength of, say, Stephen Hawking, we pulled it off in record time. Colleen pulled some uber-swift MacGuyver knots while attaching the box spring to the roof of the car. However, right now my apartment looks like a furniture warehouse. There are mattresses and tables and chairs everywhere. I'll deal with that when I get home tonight. In the meantime, Pookie the Fearless is spending the afternoon napping on the new arrivals. It gets his seal of approval.

Below are some snaps from Kristin's bachelorette this past week-end. They were all taken my Steph B., since mine are still being whizzed and processed at CVS. Actually, I'm just too lazy/busy/forgetful to pick them up. Anyhow, more to come from the rest of the evening.

But in the meantime...

Kristin, The Bride


Sangria and a Klassy Penis Straw


A coy, but married, Sue


Me, Wearing the Sangria

Lady of the Night

Last night while at work my celly rang. It was a friend of mine who wanted to catch a late dinner down at Balthazar. Knowing that he was the type of guy to pick up a check (he is Southern...) I agreed. After all, back when was I was just a sprout (read: 22) and new to the wonder of New York City I used to always amuse myself after a late-night quitting time. There's a reason bars are open until 4:00 AM.

At 11:00 PM Balthazar was jumping. My friend was at the bar and to my right was Jake Gyllenhaal with a table of friends. He is ridiculously hot in person. I tried to be sly but I'm pretty sure he caught me gawking. Oh well, don't leave the house if you're a hot actor who doesn't want to be stared at. My friend and I got a table in a corner. I had a salad, he had the duck and all was right in the world. Then the dessert menu came out and I had to have my way with the sorbets while he had some blueberry cake thing.

We walked all the way from Spring Street to my bunker on 20th. By then it was almost 2:30 AM and my back was killing me. Needless to say I slept in until about 11:00 AM, thus smooshing my plans for a run.

Tomorrow my friend Colleen and I are moving a mattress from Cobble Hill to my apartment. I am convinced it will turn out like an episode of Ab Fab. Stay tuned.

Yes, Virginia, I Do Have a Family

Back when I was in college my friends seemed surprised when I told them I needed to get a card for one of my brothers' birthdays or that one of them was going to pick me up at the airport. Everyone always assumed that I was an only child. This isn't because I was some sort of overgrown Veruca Salt, it was just that, well, they just didn't envision me with siblings.

But yes, I have two brothers. There is Andrew, who is 31. Then there is Robert, 29, who is married to Hun. They're going to have a little boy in October. (How nice! A Libra!) At the helm there is Paul, who has the same name is me: Paul Madoule Millard. I'm Pauline Madoule Millard. Insert chuckles here.

Even more shocking was Parents' Weekend freshmen year, when someone was actually surprised when I said my mom was coming up. After all, I hadn't arrived Opening Weekend with my parents. Instead my Polish friend Arek and I had packed up a U-Haul and went up on our own. We had been at Syracuse all summer for an academic program, so we certainly didn't need any hand holding that weekend in August. There were parties to attend!

Anyhow, here's a shot of the fam from a few weeks ago. It was a terribly humid and rainy day, so I look a little drowned. But everyone else looks good. We're a rather attractive family! N'est pas?

(And you still have two chances to marry in!)

A True Story About Getting a Bikini Wax

Last week I had a few days off so I popped into my local salon for a bikini wax. It was early in the day, the place was empty and I had no trouble getting a waxer. It should be noted that at my salon you don't actually remove your underpantsfor the waxing. You just pull them aside as they work their way around. From what I understand, most people wears thongs for the reason. I, however, was not, since it was a sporadic decision to go in for a wax.

I laid down on the table and stared up at the ceiling, waiting for the fun to begin. I happened to look up and I saw that The Waxer, while working, was giving my nether region a dirty look. At first I thought, "That's not cool," but then realized that maybe it was just my imagination. Maybe I caught her at a bad angle.

I went back to staring at the ceiling and The Waxer continued her duties. I looked over to see how things were going, and AGAIN I caight her giving my business a strange look. At this point I was pretty sure I wasn't losing my mind, but I couldn't exactly say anything being that she was pouring hot wax all over me.

The wax came to end, I peeled myself off the table and gave The Waxer her tip. I was still kind of mad, though. Who was she to make a judgement on my goodies? My goodies had plenty of fans, and if she wanted to hear from them I would have been more than happy to call them on the cell, right here. But I figured The Waxer was just crazy and maybe I should have given her a bigger tip. You know, to make her feel better.

Later that evening while at work I was in the bathroom. That's when I realized why The Waxer was looking at me funny. My underwear, for no particular reason that I can think of, was on -- completely and rather conspicuously -- inside out. The whole time I thought The Waxer was crazy, when really it was me who looked like the crazy person. What kind of person puts on their drawers inside out? Why hadn't I noticed this before?

There is no moral to this story.

My Life is One Continuous Bachelorette Party...

Hello friends. I hope this oppresively hot weather finds you in good spirits, or at least not far from an air conditioner.

The highlight of the week-end was Kristin's bachelorette party. It was a six-hour affair that took us around Chelsea on a most balmy night. We hit Serena and The Park and The Red Rock and for some reason the evening closed up at a random bar on Avenue B. It was an extrordinary time and for the second time in a month I found myself dancing on a bar in the meat packing district. I'm still not sure if I should be ashamed of that.

I took three rolls of film that are being processed we speak. Photos to come soon.

In other news, I'm working evenings for most of the next month and the first week of August I'll be hiding out in Westport, CT to housesit and watch three very large beasts. (Read: Dogs). Working nights offers a lot more free time than I realized. This morning Pookie The Fearless, my cat and Comrade-in-Arms, woke me up by nibbling on my leg. I thought that maybe he needed food, but alas his bowl was full. Seems he just wanted to some attention. Oh, pets.

Being that I was awake and the Today Show was on, I pulled on my exercise clothes and went out for a run in the East River Park. At 9:30 AM the humidity wasn't nearly as full force force as it is now, and the first three miles of the jog went well. The final mile and a half was an exercise in wishing for a death that wouldn't come. Under normal circumstances I love running in the humidity. I love to sweat. I love when it pours into my eyes or when I am wiping sheets of it off my shoulders. A good schvitz is the sign of a good workout. I'll be back out there tomorrow, for sure. Come find me!

Today, however, there were times when I questioned if I would make it home in one piece. I stopped at one point to do abs and arms at the track over by 6th street and then puttered home. Back at my apartment I stood under the cold shower, happy that at least I went out and ran. At least some junk was removed from my trunk. However, in terms of my normal summer running progress, I'm terribly behind. This time last year I was starting an eight-mile loop that usually had me seeing spots at the end. That's the other sign of a good workout: Hallucinating. Give it a shot!

Late Afternoon on Friday

Bet ya thought I'd go the whole day without a post? Nah...

I realize that I think I lost a few photo CDs that would have made uploading some new shots from my birthday and Fourth of July a whole lot easier. Now it seems that all I have are the prints and the negatives. I think in my many hastes to clean I may have tossed them. But no matter...I'll find a way to get them up. Does anyone have a negative scanner?

That said, here are a few new photos for your viewing pleasure. (People seem to like blogs with photos on them. Who knew?) More are on Flickr, and more may surface after this week-end, if all goes according to plan.



Here is Godfrey, on my roof watching the fireworks. If you went to Syracuse, you may know Godfrey from his comic strip, Wrong Turns. Or, if you have ever had web design needs, he does that as well. He was original man behind my website, until I realized that my dad would work for free. Regardless, Godfrey is good times, all the times.



This is photographer Bruno, doing what he does best. When he's on the job he's like a fly, everywhere but nowhere, all at the same time. I highly recommend him for your next event.



This is Jon, my favorite music snob of a friend, playing frisbee on the beach in Mattituck. That sunset is wacky.

That's all the news I have for now. I should find those photo CDs so I can put up more pics of my girl friends. You guys seems to like that stuff.

Wonka Cakes!

Holy Smokes! Are you kidding me?!?!?! Wonka Cakes!?!?!

I am SO glad I get paid today. The bodega on 20th and 2nd Avenue isn't going to know what hit them.

Here's some random Pauline trivia: During the summer of 1986 I was in a production Charlie and the Chocolate Factory in New Canaan, CT. I played Grandma Josephine for one or two scenes, and then was an oompa-loompa for the rest of the show. I sang the Augustus Gloop part of the "Ooompa Loompa Song," right in the beginning.

I am all over all this remake of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Yes, Gene Wilder was brilliant in the original and yes I was skeptical at first about this remake. But heck, Johnny Depp is the new Willy Wonka. Johnny Depp. You just can't go wrong.

Although even at eight years old I thought Gene Wilder was kinda hot.

One Nation, Under the Peasant Skirt

Today's act of Shameless Self-Promotion comes in the form of my bi-weekly column on The Simon:

Check out my insights on summer 2005's fashion trend, the peasant skirt. It's more than just a garment, it's a unifier for Womankind!

I am not kidding.

Thursday, As a Concept

The coffee is finally kicking in which means that I can finally think clearly. Once again I walked to work this morning and once again I wondered what so many people were doing awake so early in the morning. (Yes, I realize this is New York City, but come on...6:45 AM?!?!) Even the dog run in Madison Square Park had a lot of people in it. It was like it was the middle of the day.

I came into work and saw that Jennifah sent me some pics we took during the pre-dawn hours Fourth of July week-end. I'll put them up tomorrow as part of a Friday Photo Extravaganza.

Last night was spent working on one of my large writing projects. My friend, vexed by the state of my entertainment system, got on his hands and knees for almost and hour until he had it up and running. He even broke a sweat he was concentrating so hard. Meanwhile, I sat curled up in my chair and drank coffee. I'm a good supervisor like that.

I just saw on the wire that the transformers are going to be made into a live-action film. Being a child of the 1980s, I don't know how I feel about this. The guy who's slated to direct it was also responsible for "Pearl Harbor" and "Armageddon." Draw your own conclusions.

Huh?

I made the mistake of checking my site meter and all the referral pages. I was excited with the jump in hits. Then I noticed something weird: A lot of my referral pages are foreign. I'm got all kinds of languages feeding in, not to mention a few adult blogs. What gives? Can someone explain this to me? IS there something on this site that's attracting all the smut blogs?

Just wondering.

Wednesday's Photo-Thon

It's Wednesday, July 13th, which is a day of little signifigance other than the fact that tomorrow is Bastille Day. (How are you marking French Independance Day?)

This morning I walked the mile and some change to work, which was nice because it was warm out and I was in no particular rush. (Am I ever?) I was surprised by how many other people in the Gramercy and Flatiron area were up and at 'em at 6:45 AM. There were dog walkers and joggers, moms with babies and guys in suits. Where were all these people going? Left to my own devices I would sleep until noon. Sadly, I do not have that luxury.

Since I'm awake, I uploaded some photos from my birthday, the wedding and July Fourth week-end to Flickr. There are more to come, especially from July Fourth. I seem to have lost one of the picture CDs the nice folks at Kodak gave me. Until then, enjoy these arty, black and white numbers.

However, the people over at Flickr keep telling me that I've reached my limit for the month. According to my calculations, I still have about 4 spots to go before I'm at my limit. Maybe I should just upgrade.

Anyhow, here are the latest:

Hillary and I after my birthday party on June 18th


Velazquez, Me and Some Guy at Naked Lunch


Melissa Sperl and I, Shot at Exactly the Right Angle


The View From Table 10

Get Your Geek on Tuesday!

It's Tuesday, which means that I must make time for the New York Times Science Times. My inner dork thrives on Tuesday, so here are a few selections for your reading pleasure. I haven't had time yet to deal with the space shuttle story. Some of us work, you know...

Scientists study the phenomenon of musical hallucinations. Because who among us hasn't had one? And does this explain some really bad indie rock?

The Colonoscopy. Apparently they're not as bad as you might think. Eh, I still think I'll wait on that one.

And here's another photo from this past weekend. I look uber-shiny. The shame!

Could It Be Any Hotter?

Despite the near soul-crushing heat last night, I sauntered down to Pianos to see Brandi Carlile perform.

Who, praytell, is Brandi Carlile? Up until a few days ago I also had no idea. Then I got an e-mail from a publicist at Columbia Records who invited me to the show she was doing at Pianos. I listened to Brandi's CD and was shocked at how good she was. Basically she's a girl with a guitar and quite a set of pipes. Think of a mix of Mama Cass and Melissa Etheridge. Her voice is full and smokey and it's such a relief to see a female artist embrace her lower register as opposed to shooting for all the vocal gymnastics, a la Mariah Carey. It's great if you can do it, but most can't.

Anyhow, Brandi Carlile was amazing and everyone should check her out.

It's been a few posts since I added any photos, so here is one of Sue and I on Saturday, when she got married.


More to come! Photographer Bruno won't send me any more until he shows them all to Sue, so until then I just have to wait. And I don't like waiting. Bah!

By the Power Vested in Me By the City of New York...

Ah, weddings. This weekend was all about the nuptuals. Friday was a rehearsal dinner for my cousin Andrew. Andrew's a step-cousin, but still very cool and my dad, step mom, brothers and sister-in-law had a great evening hanging out and eating (a lot) up at Sambuca's on West 72nd Street.

Saturday was Sue and Dan's wedding, which was more than I could have expected. Everything went off without a hitch. I didn't flub my lines, Sue didn't pass out and the food was amazing. Our wine glasses were never empty. I was also a proud member of Table 10, which was not only the Syracuse kids table, (are we really hostile to outsiders?) but so bright that some of us had to wear sunglasses before the meal was served.

Sue put a lot of thought into the tables, and the best part about Table 10 was that since we all knew each other we didn't have to do the boring wedding reception greet and toss of, "What do you do? How do you know the bride?" Instead we continued conversations started days earlier and discussed whether "nipple" was a proper word for the dinner table. The jury is still out.

Later that night us kids all met up at Dewey's Flatiron where Sue and Dan's parents ran us a bar tab of food and drink. Everyone seemed pretty spent (I was basically a zombie) but that didn't stop us from hanging out or having our way with the mozarella sticks. It was a perfect night and the perfect end to a great day.

But there was no time for slacking or sleeping, since at noon on Sunday I had to be at Walker's in Tribeca for brunch with The Family. It was basically a re-run of Friday's meal, only with more eggs and less red wine. My dad, who has lived in California for over 15 years, showed up wearing a straw hat (to shield from the sun!) as well as socks with Birkenstocks and khaki shorts. I have rarely had a prouder moment.

After the meal and a stroll around the Hudson River Park and Ground Zero (nothing says "family outing" like visiting the site of a terror attack) I headed up to 33rd Street for work. Good time, good times.

Sue and Dan...Mere Hours From Marital Bliss!!!

In less than a day these two, Sue and Dan, will be married. Not only will they be married, but I will be the one leading the festivities in my role as The Officiant. Yes, me. I'm signing the marriage certificate and running the ceremony. I've taken my role quite seriously, even looking up cool and unusual readings for the happy couple. Sue and Dan were trying to stay as far away from schlock as possible (which I applaud), and I think we've achieved that. There will be NO readings from Corinthians (Hey, Love isn't always so patient and kind) and NO Pachabel's Cannon in D playing in the background. (If that's not McMusic, I don't know what is.)

I love weddings. They are great. This year I am going to a lot of them and I am psyched for each one. I am especially happy for Sue, because she is a great gal who I've known for many years. (We're talking Clinton-era, kids.) When Sue asked me to be the officiant I almost burst with fruit flavor. The performer in me saw it as the Ultimate Role, not to mention the Ultimate Honor.

For days now I have been practicing my, "By the power invested in ME and the State of New York, I now promouce you Man and Wife. It's going to be great!

Good Lord, I'm getting weepy already!

Before I spontaneously combust, I leave you with a snippet from the Apache Marriage Blessing, one of the readings I'll be doing tomorrow. I think it sums up the whole idea of a life partner well.

Now you will feel no rain, for each of you will be the shelter for each other. Now you will feel no cold, for each of you will be the warmth for the other. Now you are two persons, but there is only one life before. Go now to your dwelling place to enter into the days of your life together. And may your days be good and long upon the earth.

Treat yourselves and each other with respect, and remind yourselves often of what brought you together. Give the highest priority to the tenderness, gentleness and kindness that your connection deserves. When frustration, difficulty and fear assail your relationship - as they threaten all relationships at one time or another - remember to focus on what is right between you, not only the part which seems wrong. In this way, you can ride out the storms when clouds hide the face of the sun in your lives - remembering that even if you lose sight of it for a moment, the sun is still there. And if each of you takes responsibility for the quality of your life together, it will be marked by abundance and delight.

Thursday Feels Like Tuesday

Yesterday I got an e-mail from an editor I've been [subtly] hounding for a few months, since I've been wondering where my contract and all that good stuff is. We've agreed on a story -- and a big one at that. I'm just itchy to get going on it. Sometimes I'm like a puppy about to wet.

He wrote me back and said their latest issue is turning out to be a "rough birth" and he would get back to me soon. "By the way," he asked. "What day is it?"

An excellent question, since I still think it's Tuesday. Last night at Lennon: The Musical I was reminded that Friday is just around the corner. This is the problem with long week-ends and then taking off days in order to recoup from the long week-ends: By the end of of it all, you don't know heads from tails.

However, I need to keep my eye on the ball being that I'm officiating a wedding on Saturday afternoon. On Friday my dad rolls into town from California, so family obligations will abound. Along the way I've also had an offer to hook my TV and DVD player into an entertainment system bonanza, and who am I to turn down free labor?

I don't have much more to offer in the way of amusement today, being that not only do I still shoot photos in film, but I also still process them at CVS. That said, please read this article about Murray Hill. Those of you who know me know how I feel about that place.

Murray Hill may be the new Uppers East 90s, but I spent my formative New York City Years (ages 22 to 24.5) in a shakey walk-up on 94th Street and Second Avenue. The Dormandy Court will always have a place in my heart, even if I did make fun of it every time I walked by.

Reveal Yourself, Secret Dodgeball Crush!

So, um, could whoever put me as a crush on their Dodgeball thing just kind of e-mail me and tell me who you are? I got that alert last night about you. I don't check in all that often, and when I am out I'm never anywhere cool, unless you consider the Gramercy Bagel Shop or Chinatown Dim Sum joints cool.

Don't worry, I don't bite....hard.

New Day, New Surprises

OK, so maybe my days lately have started at noon, but a few minutes ago I got a message from an editor who told me that a bit from a review that I wrote is now on the back of the paperback version of Amy Sohn's book, "My Old Man." Check it out and prepare to be dazzled.

Strangely, last week I was also told that a bit of one of my reviews was also used in the paperback version of Jardine Libaire's book, "Here Kitty Kitty." It was one of my favorite books of 2004 and I highly recommend it to everyone within earshot.

So that is that.

In other news, being that photo processing is taking longer than expected due to the holiday, I won't have any photos for this site until at least Sunday. Of course, if I just dealt with the 21st century and shot in digital, we could all relive the week-end now, in vibrant color.

Tonight I am going to see Lennon: The Musical. Yes, I promise to make fun of it tomorrow.

Ping-Ponging Around the Long Island Sound

I am slowly recovering from hitting three different towns in three days over the week-end. Photos should trickle in over the next few days, as they are processed. (Yes, I still shoot in film. Sue me.)

Suffice it to say that it was an award-winning week-end, complete with high school friends, biking in the country and sailing on the Long Island Sound. Life is a cabaret. I have no complaints.

Now to deal with all the unpacking....