Sometimes I do things that would make my little sister proud.
November 5, 2011
My little sister, who is the light of my life, turned 22 last weekend. Every year she manages to collect an entourage who will celebrate her birthday for an entire week, doing ridiculous things in and around NYC. I’m never invited, but in all honesty, I’m kind of glad. While I’d absolutely enjoy the all-day pub crawl, I would not enjoy the all-night underground techno Halloween concert/ rave that follows. I would probably skip that, and fall back in with the crowd in time for brunch, but even then I would probably spend the hour judging their stories from the night before, so it’s better for everyone I’m not involved. This year she lost not only her wallet, ID, and cell phone, but also her passport. Someone found them 3 days later and returned everything to her, just in time for her flight to Florida. The stars are always aligned for her, it seems, and no matter how ridiculous her stories are, you can’t help but love her – because of them, or in spite of them, or a little of both.
Last night I volunteered at a charity event. This is my kind of scene: put on a great dress (custom made in Viet Nam with a bit of embroidery that matches the neck-tie I wear as a belt that I got from a silk shop in India), flit about and be charming, pour wine, drink wine, and schmooze with the winery folk. This is all followed by Campari cocktails with surprisingly pleasant company, followed by water, finally, at another bar down the street, where I spent a lot of time discussing Umami with the owner. (He’s really into it. I mean, who isn’t?)
We’re getting to the part of the story where MacGuyver meets Charlie’s Angels, and where I turn into my sister, and where my car is locked in the parking garage with my house keys inside. (The story falls short because my windows hadn’t been smashed in. Yes, that also happened to sis during birthday week…) It’s very late, and the few people I’m willing to wake up are obviously not answering their phones. Luckily my cab driver was really creative and, motivated by his fear of crying girls (I wasn’t crying, he just didn’t want me to start), he started exploring the building. Then we (me in a fantastic red trench coat and heals) broke branches off nearby trees and managed to use them to push a button through the fence and inside the garage to open the door. When I got out I gave him 12$, and we were both very happy with ourselves!
I’m volunteering again on Sunday. This time I’ll teach Girl Scouts how to make apple cobbler in a Dutch oven.
I’m going to Argentina. Two weeks over X-mas with KWW to get a much needed dose of the wonders of international travel.
I think that’s all.