Sally sells seashells by the seashore

Today I am wearing this gorgeous little shell pendent around my neck dangling from a gorgeous little gold chain. It was a gift from my lovely friend from her trip to St. Thomas. I love seashell jewelry. Generally, it makes me think of the beach, and in turn happiness and sunshine. This little guy however, has extra special meaning to me.

My grandparents winter in Florida, and have been doing so since I was a little girl. As a reward for not seeing them for months on end, my family and I would take trips down during my sister's and my winter breaks for bursts of sunshine and fun in the middle of an upstate New York winter. One of my favorite activities was combing the beach for shells. As it turns out, the kind pictured above has always been one of my favorites to find. They are just SO pretty!

They remind me of days wading through salt water, and an ice cold coke with a chicken salad sandwich from my Gram's cooler when I got taken out by a wave and had salt up my nose. They make me think of simpler times when nothing mattered except the sun on your back and the cache of shells you had at the end of the day, of tongue twisters and pictureseque afternoons.

Yep. I'm pretty sure that this necklace has contributed to my day dreaming all morning. Good thing I have a holiday weekend coming up, and I can devote myself to the beach and finding seashells as pretty as these for a whole three days. Thanks Annie!

Treat me like a lady, gosh darnit.

Lately I have been finding myself in some rather uncomfortable situations. I didn’t really think about it until I was reading an article in Glamour about how women of my generation tend to laugh off sexual harassment in the workplace rather than filing a formal complaint. Women gave reasons such as not wanting to cause a stir about something so minor in the office, or by finding other ways to retaliate against the offender by making an even raunchier joke. Other women just said they don’t really find it that offensive.

I found the article a little upsetting. I am happy that women of my generation have the freedom to have a relaxed attitude about sex, and in turn, sexual harassment. If we want to take a lover, or have a baby out of wedlock, no one is going to socially ostracize us or demand that we leave our job. That, whatever your morals, is progress towards women owning their own bodies to do what they please with them.

However, I do not think it’s ok that jokes that in previous years would have been completely unacceptable to utter in the presence of women, and would most definitely warrant a gasp and a cheek slap as a reprimand have become so common place that women feel ok about laughing them off as normal day-to-day behavior. Just boys being boys.

That is simply not true. I was discussing the matter with a close friend of mine, and she agreed. We think that women find it easier to diffuse and uncomfortable situation with laughter rather than getting deemed a bitch or uptight for scolding the offenders. I’m just not sure when it became ok to treat women as one of the guys rather than treating us like ladies as we deserve to be treated. And I’m not sure when women started accepting this behavior as typical and not maintaining that as ladies we deserve a higher standard of behavior that does not make us feel uncomfortable or objectified.

Now I know many people will disagree, and say that women have fought for equal rights, equality in everything, so why should we still want to be treated in an old fashioned way, where men treat women like delicate flowers, opening doors and paying for checks? Well if old-fashioned means treating women with a little common respect, and as something to be handled a little more gently than the boys, then bring it on. I do not need a man to support me, do things for me, or expect me to cook and clean for him. I do require that all men refrain from objectifying my body, and if that means throwing in a little chivalry while he’s at it, all the better.

I have a lot of guy friends. And as I result, I find myself hanging out with groups of men fairly frequently. I am no prude, but lately I have been finding myself getting offended about the things my guy friends feel comfortable talking about in front of me. This article made me stop and think. When did this start happening? Have they always done this? Why do I let them get away with it? Because, in truth, it does make me uncomfortable.

I used to think it just meant they felt so comfortable with me, that they thought it was ok to relax and talk about whatever in front of me. I don’t mind dirty jokes. I even like to tell them myself. Talking about sex, not a problem. It’s when it crosses the line into treating women like bodies, objects to be enjoyed that it bothers me. And it is not only the boys who are the offenders. A handful of women I am friends with joke around in the same manner. Regardless of the gender, when you start objectifying women publicly as if it is the natural thing to joke about (even if you are one) it gets on my nerves.

I’ll admit. I have been guilty of objectifying men, and talking about their fantastic abs or tight butt, but at least I don’t do it in front of other men. No, I prefer to discuss things like that in private, with a few select girlfriends where we can feel free to be as lewd as we like without risking offending anyone whose stance on the matter we do not know, or appearing to have loose morals to bystanders who don’t know the context. Even if I am not following the standards of the 1950’s housewives, I like to maintain a lady like public countenance.

So boys. Please stop talking about my boobs when I am in the room. And no, I do not want to hear about how you opted to make a reservation at the restaurant closer to your hotel so you can get your girlfriend back faster to hook up after your “romantic” dinner. I am fine with a crude joke here and there. But this is just entering the realm of TOO MUCH INFORMATION. I mean, come on. I have girl friends who don’t even go into that much detail about their sex lives with me, and it is much less offensive when they do.

AND, it just gives me pause. If these are the “nice guys” who care about women and treat them right talking like this, then what are the real creeps like behind closed doors? It’s a view into the male psyche that I would just rather not have. I expect you to be thinking about sex during a romantic dinner. I would just like to hold on to the notion that the dinner itself is also important to you, not just closing the deal afterwards. I prefer to believe that men actually enjoy romantic moments, rather than constantly hearing otherwise from bawdy tales to the boys. Spare me the details please, and the discomfort of having to listen to it.

Summer afternoon

"Summer afternoon- summer afternoon; to me those have always been the two most beautiful words in the English language." -Henry James

Beacon's Closet

I went to Beacon’s Closet for the very first time recently (finally). I’m sure that vintage loving New Yorkers would be cringing everywhere to know that I have managed to pass by visiting this thrift store/NY fashion institution for the nearly 7 years I have lived in this city. Partly this is because I am just too lazy to travel to Brooklyn very often. Yes, I know it is not very far. And no, it is not because I am a Manhattan snob. I lived in the BX for 4 years, I have put in my outer-borough time. Now that I reside on the main island, I just don’t see the point of leaving very often. Manhattan is where I have always wanted to be, and there is not much that Manhattan doesn’t have to offer that pushes me to search other places for entertainment, shopping, or food.

Anyways, I was short on closet space and cash last week, so I decided to undertake the voyage with some clothes, belts, and purses I wanted to get rid of and finally check out this mecca of second hand shopping that everyone loves so much. I have to say, I was a little disappointed. Yes, it was a thrift store on a grand scale. It had rack upon rack of clothing beautifully organized by color, and was set up to look like a real clothing store. Yes, there were some pretty cool shades, belts, and sunglasses. But because I’ve heard so much about it, I expected something special, some extra pizzazz that would wow me, and set it apart from any other thrift store I’ve been to besides the layout. On my trip, I didn’t find any clothes that I wanted, but I’m sure that if I had been more in the mood for a treasure hunt that I could have rustled up at least one dress to take home.

However, it was still just a thrift store. It had that stale smell of used clothing, and no air conditioning. While I appreciated the trip for what it was worth (and the $25 bucks I made from belts and purses I no longer wear-Free money!), I don’t know if I will be returning any time soon. I appreciate that some people love the thrill of finding a bargain among the used clothing of others, and I love the aspect that one woman’s trash is another’s glorious new Saturday night outfit. It is the existence of thrift stores that keeps me from feeling guilty when I go on a major cleaning spree and get rid of a couple garbage bags of clothing.

And yet, I fail to really understand the allure of the second hand apparel (especially shoes). I just prefer my clothing to be brand new when I purchase it, and the prices in Beacon’s closet weren’t really all that cheap for pre-worn if you know what I’m saying. And the idea of wearing some stranger’s old shoes just skeeves me out. I really want to love the thrift store trend, but each time I prepare myself to go searching for buried treasures among the racks of goodwill, beacon’s closet, or the salvation army, I generally end up dropping off my donations, giving things a half hearted glance, and leaving empty handed before I start to smell like mothballs.

Treme

Treme on HBO has recently climbed to the top of my most watched tv show list. It is a beautiful fusion of the heartbreaking truth that many families faced after Hurricane Katrina devastated New Orleans with the wonderful strength of those who returned. It will inspire the urge to fight for what is right in the most complacent viewer.

From the makers of The Wire, a socially conscious series set in the failing communities of Baltimore, Maryland, I did not expect anything less than a plot that reels you in, characters you identify with, and nuances of social justice interwoven seamlessly in between. Treme has not disappointed.

There is the hard-partying pot head Davis with a gigantic heart who wants to solve New Orleans problems through celebration (and lots of alcoholic beverages). John Goodman plays a tormented professor who is unable to reconcile New Orleans’ new reality with its former glory. He flies from outraged activist to depressed and immobile in a heartbeat. Then there is Albert Lambreaux, a chief of a Mardis Gras troupe who refuses to let the government’s neglect hurt those in need. Wendall Pierce, clearly a favorite from The Wire, emerges as Antoine Batiste the character who you love to hate. He cheats on his girlfriend, and baby’s momma at every chance he gets. He can never pay the rent or the cab fare, yet he manages to win your heart with his chuckle and excellence on the trombone. Those musicians, they will get you every time. The vibrant characters play across a superb soundtrack of real southern jazz, blues, you name it. It is music that moves the soul. It is music that helps the refugees of New Orleans cling to the wonders of their pre-Katrina lives, and work their way through their glories and their pains.

Your feet will be itching to run to Fat Tuesday in ole Louisiana before the credits roll on the first episode.

Kafko, Kaminsky, and Kaufman: A Review

I visited Kafko, Kaminsky, and Kaufman recently for the first time. I was recommended to go by a friend. She had visited them and really liked them. I have had a host of dental woes throughout my life, so I take my choice in dentist very seriously. I didn’t want to trust just any old man off the street with my teeth. So I asked around, and my friend told me how nice everyone was. I tend to be overly sensitive at the dentist (read: I cry when they tell me I need a cavity filled), so once I heard they were kind, I was sold.

I was also comforted by their Polish sounding names. I’m Polish myself, and I’ve never known Eastern Europeans to be anything less than extremely competent at anything. So I scheduled an appointment with them for 8am one morning before work. I went in expecting a cleaning, and I left with a diagnosis of needing 4 crowns, possibly 2 veneers if I wanted all my front teeth to match perfectly (obviously I would!), and teeth whitening from Dr. Kaminsky. Additionally the periodontist (Dr. Kaufman) came in and diagnosed me with advanced gum recession and recommended 3 gum grafts to fix the problem along with a mouth guard, since apparently I grind my teeth. But no cavities! WOO! Even after maxing out my insurance benefits for the year, this would cost me hundreds of dollars out of pocket.

Let’s just say that crying would be putting my reaction mildly. I was devastated. Not only do I hate having dental work done with every fiber of my being, I find it terrifying. However, after leaving I became skeptical of their diagnosis. I mean I have been to two separate endodontists, an oral surgeon, and a dentist/periodontist in my time, and none of them have ever recommended such aggressive treatment. Additionally, the suggestion of the mouth guard made me suspicious since I am notorious for sleeping with my mouth open, which I am pretty sure is the opposite of grinding your teeth, and I already have retainers from when I had braces that have not been damaged by my "teeth grinding."

So, I sought a second opinion, and spoke with a trusted family dentist. This dentist did not come to the same conclusions. He has taken care of my teeth my whole life, and is aware of all the root canals, and tooth trauma I have had. He said the gum treatment was the only thing that he could see I possibly needed and that was not emergent. He also said that the crowns were completely unnecessary unless the teeth in question were really bothering me (they are not). Then I visited another dentist in NYC for a hands-on examination and viewing of my most recent x-rays. She too came to the conclusion that crowns were completely unnecessary at the present time. She said that in the future she would most likely recommend a tooth implant rather than a crown if the teeth begin to degenerate.

Then I consulted with my friend who recommended Kafko, Kaminsky, and Kaufman to me. She told me that when she went, Dr. Kaminsky said she needed 8 fillings (which she had), and a root canal (which she also had). Then by a strange coincidence, once her insurance was maxed out for the year at her next check up there was nothing wrong.

I will not be having any dental work done there any time in the near future.

Tomorrow I see the Man of my dreams

I remember the first time I heard Maxwell's music. I had stayed home "sick" from school. I must have been in 5th or 6th grade at the time because it was before I was allowed to watch MTV. Naturally, I was putting my time at home to good use, and lounging in my sister's bed watching the forbidden channel. It was the beginning of a long love affair between me and the channel, where I would watch nearly any programming they played.

Maxwell Unplugged happened to be on. I was practically hypnotized. He was SO cute with the big fro, and his music was unbelievably soulful. Ever since that day I have been a fan. I own all four of his albums, and absolutely swoon for at least one song on each one. Sumthin Sumthin has been a long time favorite of mine. It has made it to many mixed cd's and playlists. Yet, the single of his latest album, Black Summer's Night, entitled "Pretty Wings" knocked me off my feet nearly as much as the first time I heard him sing. Yes, that is how good it is. Though I love him just a teensy little bit less without the fro.

Now he is performing a free concert tomorrow for the Today show in Rockefeller plaza. AND I'm going!! I am totally not a morning person, but I am dragging myself out of bed to make it at 7am. Watch for me in the audience. I'll be the one screaming "I love you Maxwell!" and looking like the super fan that I am. Check one more thing off the list if items required to make my life complete.