We are all still coughing and I have to say it’s on the level of unsettling now. The boys are 5 weeks in, I’m 3 weeks in. So I’m guessing I will be coughing in France, mais non! So be it. We trudge on. In trying to aid my coughing fits I went to acupuncture twice. Dr. Chen stuck needles in my face, neck, arms, thumbs (!Ouch!), chest, stomach, shins and feet. It was brutal, but I could breathe again when he was done which was amazing. I thought for sure he had cured me. But then I was up again that same evening hacking away like a maniac. Be gone plague!
To distract myself from all the mucous forming in our chests, Peter bravely invited us all down for a sleepover. This was very much fun as his loft is still unfurnished and the baby is now dexterous enough to play soccer in all that open space. It’s also always fun to hang out with him because he’s always game for whatever schemes I come up with. On this night I wanted to take some tips from a GOOP – Cheese Board. We were so close to Murrays’ Cheese Shop on Bleeker…please please please? Not only were both my husband and dear Uncle Peter game, they both went to forage! This was arduous because it was hot out, but it is no punishment to go to Murray’s cheese shop. They came back with some top picks from the Goop board and all kinds of other little specialties. We had ourselves a lovely little French picnic for supper.
Terrible, unappetizing photo of amazing food
Later, to distract us from the pending debt crisis, I made Summer Ice Pops. Not just regular ice pops, but ice pops from recipes in the NY Times Magazine (which I love PS, and can’t give up. I’ve tried). It’s my goal to make them all before we leave. But I’ll tell you…I’ve Gooped and Smitten Kitchened the ones I’ve tried by substituting agave for any sugar in the recipes to make them a little less intense.
For starters, he’s a hoarder. He squirrels things away in places where I cannot find them. I am in an apartment in Manhattan, not a palace in Versailles, yet I searched high and low for a sippy cup lid and nothing. I mean I looked everywhere for this thing, three days later, the baby is holding it in his hand. I grabbed it and said, ‘where was this?’ And he just looked at me and went…’heh heh,’ George Bush style.
So he is also finally being weaned. ‘Weaned?’ you say, ‘He still isn’t weaned?’ And to you I say, ‘no, no he’s not.’ He almost was when he was 12 months and then we picked up and moved and the weaning took no steps forward and 10 steps back. So now it’s officially on. He gets to nurse in the morning only and that’s it. He has 2 new bright blue Lifefactory glass bottles and he has to drink 16oz of milk out of them a day, and I’ll tell you this—he’ll do it—but he’ll let you know he is none too pleased about it. We keep finding his bottle in the bathtub, or rolled under the couch. But today, today was the best. Michael noticed the baby walk into the bedroom WITH the bottle, but walk out of the bedroom WITHOUT it. This prompted our Captain to search for said bottle and he found it in the trash can underneath a pair of his shorts. The baby put the bottle in the trashcan and put a pair of shorts over it, in hopes we would not discover it. Impressive. Most Impressive. Obi Wan has taught you well.
The last baby story begins with how we always call Michael, Grandpa. We call him this because there are a few things in life that he just cannot understand, like going to a concert, or dancing in a club, or pop music, or skate boards. ‘Why,’ he says, ‘why would anyone ever do these things? I don’t understand.’ Ok Grandpa.
So there is this baby show called Yo Gabba Gabba. People love it. They are constantly asking me if the baby likes it, if I heard they were coming to town, if I saw Jack Black on yesterday’s episode. So I decide in the middle of the night to finally download the very first episode and look at it to see if he’s ready for it or not. If you don’t know the show, it’s this kind of skinny DJ wearing a fuzzy hat with a star on it. He is called DJ Lance. Throughout the show DJ Lance feeds these four kooky characters (one I think is named Poopa) snacks or lunch because the topic of the show that day is food. But then they kind of spin hip hop club songs about eating lunch, oh here—I found the clip.
So—I knew Michael was going to HATE this show. I just KNEW it. And lo and behold I showed him a clip and he just looked at me bewildered and said, ‘Elizabeth, please. Please turn that off. I can’t listen to it for another minute.’ Ok Grandpa. So then the next day I ran into the kitchen singing, ‘there’s a party in my tummy—so yummy—so yummy!’ And Michael said, ‘ELIZABETH! Please. That’s not funny. It’s going to be stuck in my head all day!’ OK!! Sorry Grandpa. I finally get around to showing it to the baby and I SWEAR to you, whoever you may be, he stared at that screen with a look of utter disdain, let out a deep, old man sigh and then reached over and turned it OFF! The fruit doesn’t fall far from the tree.
In more annoying news we got his new lead levels back and they are only down to 7 which annoys the Poopa out of me. But we don’t have to go back to the doctor again for 3 months, so at least the kid’s arm will get a break for a bit.
We are all so sick. For me-two full weeks of hacking like an 80 year old smoker. For the baby-an ear infection on top of his night time cough he’s had for a month. For Michael-the remnants of a cough he’s had for a month. I would start to think this life of vagabonds is perhaps too stressful for us, but the truth of the matter is, almost everyone we know has had this weird plague, even the receptionist at my Doctor’s office. It’s downright creepy because nothing seems to get rid of it. It just laughed in the face of my amoxicillin.
The thing I’ve come to learn about having a baby is that you don’t get to be sick. You press on. So we did. As I’m sure you know it was hot as blazes in the North East so we had to escape the heat with the plague. This was accomplished by museums, fountains, trains, hotels and pools.
First stop—The Museum of Natural History.
Since it’s close by, we braved the heat and went to the Hall of Ocean Life under the big whale and set the baby loose!
Then some astronaut ice cream and a dip in the fountain next to the Rose Space Center.
Next stop—Washington DC
Dad was in DC for a convention (and a meeting at homeland security (!)) so Michael and I grabbed the baby and got on an (air conditioned) Amtrak. He was a champ on the train. He slept and when he woke up he ran up and down the aisles blowing kisses and waving to his fans as if he were the Queen of England.
Once in DC, it was so roasting hot that we headed right to the Air and Space Museum via the Metro. (It is so fun to be a tourist in somebody else’s town.) We had to cross the mall on foot and I swear to you the Capital was merely a mirage.
We are all sick. The boys have been coughing for weeks already and I can’t seem to get off of an airplane without being diagnosed with consumption 3 days later. So this week has been filled with nothing but amoxicillin, honey and lemon. But that doesn’t mean we haven’t been enjoying our little sick ward…
We had fun surfing the interwebs looking for the perfect hotel to stay in in Paris for the one night we’re there before we head to Provence.
We ALMOST thought to splurge and stay at the Ritz for one night just so the baby could have his first official swimming lesson in their over the top, ridiculous pool (see photo below). A friend of ours smacked us back into reality by reminding us that’s what photo-shop is for. Fine. Kill my dreams Schneider. Meanwhile we found a much cooler (cheaper), chic hotel in an area a little more conducive to our lives. I suppose in my next life when I need a Mercedes S class to meet me at the plane door, I can call on the Ritz then. Hotel La Belle Juliette Paris is what we decided on because they have a little pool, but we came close to staying in this hidden little gem Hôtel Particulier Montmartre.
Fabrice Rambert, Courtesy of the Hotel Ritz Paris
We also received our address for our apartment dans Paris. 2 Rue Chabanais. It’s nothing fancy BUT, instead of dropping us in corporate housing (little business suites with fridges) they sought out this little flat for our little family so we can have a kitchen and washer/dryer in our space. Nice! Plus we’re in the 2me arrondissement which is very safe and clean and posh. Our Parisian friend Marienne took a walk by the property a few days ago to make sure of the area for us, she said we will be very pleased, but our credit cards might not be as there are many nice shops. The link below will give you a little tour of the flat.
Lastly, this week we have found ourselves one degree away from Her Majesty the Queen of England, not just once, but 3 times! We decided it’s a sign that things are looking up.
1—We had a visit from our friend from England. He is a scholar, author, curator, Oxford man. He is in New York to set up an exhibit on Percy Bysshe Shelley at the New York Public Library and we just think that is so cool. We went to lunch and then took a little jaunt to the Apple Store where he kept repeatedly referring to his Blackberry. He realized his error and said he suddenly feared for his life, that he knew the omnipotent Steve Jobs must have heard him somehow. But then he relaxed as he recalled saying something out of place when he was having tea at Buckingham Palace and no harm befell him.
Me: (WHAT? Tea at Buckingham Palace?) Oh how lovely, how often do you have tea at Buckingham Palace?
Him: ‘Twice a year.’
Me: (Twice a YEAR?) Oh, I assume you’ve met the Queen personally?
Him: ‘Well, I do all the books for the Royals, but I don’t think she knows who I am.’
Me: (WHAT? All the books? That’s crazy!) Oh brilliant. Let me ask you, are you allowed to look her directly in the eye when you speak to her?
Him: ‘Of course! But you musn’t turn your back on her. That would be considered rude.’
(!!??)
2—As I was looking up some information on a certain ‘Producer’ who shall remain nameless, I stumbled upon Michael’s colleague’s name, the one we are going to visit in Provence. And as it turns out, he was knighted last year. (!) He is now a Sir. So Michael sent him an email to congratulate him and then asked if it was alright if we turned our backs on him if we promised to do it slowly, so as not to startle him.
3—Michael was coming home from a jog around Central Park when he sees none other than Sir Paul McCartney
ticketsinventory.com
(that’s right, also knighted (!)) strolling in front of the Museum of Natural History with one of his granddaughters. The world weary Michael O’Donnell, friend to celebrities, knights and aristocrats, loves Paul McCartney so much and was so excited and freaked out about seeing him that he hid behind a tree. That’s right, Michael O’Donnell was so googly eyed that he hid behind a tree, and there he pretended to stretch so he could just stare at his idol until he faded away into the sunset…
Since it is still a mystery as to where we may land come October, we have decided to embrace our homelessness for the next few months and become vagabonds. But we’ve decided to make the most of it and become fancy vagabonds. To start, some friends were kind enough to let us come stay in their pretty apartment for the month of July and August up until we leave for Paris. So say bye bye first temporary UWS apt and hello 2nd temporary UWS apartment.
I will tell you this dear Reader, we LOVE this apartment. doorman building, elevator, laundry in the basement, nice sized living room, an eat-in kitchen (dishwasher!), 2 bedrooms and views of the Belleclaire Hotel (I’ve always been a big fan of that building). Plus you can hear the church bells ring from Collegiate down the street where the baby will go to school one day. Heh Heh Heh. No, I’m serious. But the best part about this building is that it’s not NEW. It’s a pre-war building—1920s I think, but it’s well maintained and just nice…lovely…civilized. Plus, I’m not going to lie, it’s nice to be right next to Fairway again…sorry Zabar’s….I will always love your housewares.
On the road to increasing the civilized nature of our homelessness, Michael was talking to an old colleague and Paris came up. He said, ‘you have to come stay at my house in the south of France so I can see you and meet your family.’ I swear he really said that, Michael showed me the email. So after much debate (2 seconds worth), we decided to accept his gracious invitation and figure out how to make it happen. So now we’re leaving for Paris on Sunday, August 7th, traveling to Provence the 9th-11th, Michael starts work on Cabaret back in Paris on Friday the 12th. Eeeeeeeeee!…we’re getting very excited. Who cares if we don’t know where we’re living September 1st? Not me. Why would you think I would care about that?
I don’t really like asking people for help. I like to handle things myself. But over the years I have come to learn to be a little more gracious in my ability to ask for and then to accept help from others. The primary reason for this burgeoning ability is not years of therapy, but the prospect of being able to purchase a Thank You gift. I love hunting down the right Thank You gifts for people and Michael is a master at refining my runaway ideas. We make a terrific Thank You gift buying team, at least I think we do.
In our recent hunting we came across ~ John Derian Company Inc ~. I’m sure that makes some of you yawn…oh John Derian, bla bla, old hat…I’m sure T has been on an archeological dig with him or something. But he was slightly new to us, by name anyway. For years I had seen his trays on the table of one of my favorite clients and I decided to ask her more about them. I knew I could find them at Bergdorf, but I wanted to check out his shop down in the East Village. I heart that shop. It’s just so elegant and creative and fun. I guess whimsical would be how you’d describe it, but there is a definite sense of humor in Mr. Derian’s work.
He’s primarily known for his decoupage I believe (gluing paper onto stuff. BAH! It sounds so simple). We ended up purchasing a tray for Peter in the Hotel Algonquin series because it was just so funny. These are notes, along with a calling card, written by the same woman to someone at the Algonquin Hotel and John Derian unearthed them and decoupaged them onto (into?) glass trays. They crack me up…this woman was serious…
johnderian.com
For a gift for another kind and generous family who let us stay in their home, we discovered that John Derian made a line of items with vintage NYC maps on them, but they are exclusive to Bergdorf, so twist my arm to get me over there. The baby and I took an amazing walk over to 5th Ave through Central Park. We found a tray with a vintage map of the Theatre District from what must be the late 1800s because the original Metropolitan Opera House is on it.
‘You HAVE to get there at 9 am on a week day or else you’ll wait in line for an hour.’
‘You HAVE to hurry and go before all the tourists get here this summer!’
OK! OK! Twist my arm! I’ll go! I’ll go!
Lucky ducky for me, a friend had a Met Museum Membership pass so we could bypass the line and the price tag. Otherwise I don’t know if I would have completely enjoyed being packed into a dark exhibition space with a bunch of people secretly trying to take forbidden photographs of a dress made entirely out of pheasant feathers (honestly, it was made out of pheasant feathers and it was incredible).
The late Alexander McQueen‘s exhibit at the The Costume Institute at the Met really is beautiful. I mean, it’s not exactly my taste. He was very dark and very tortured if his creations are indicative of his head space (Lady GaGa’s meat dress? The Jack the Ripper blazer? God, that blazer is beautiful, though), but there is no denying he was a master craftsman, a genius.
Plus we brought the baby with us. This was his first visit to the Met and he loved it. He loved the exhibition and he charmed everyone he came in contact with. People would be in their dark and mysterious frames of mind, while they viewed a collection of clothing entitled Highland Rape and then the baby would stick his face right in front of theirs with a big, goofy grin and they would be so surprised they couldn’t help but laugh.
If you can’t get to the exhibit, click on the webpage link up above and you can view several photos and descriptions of some of the pieces on display. If you’re claustrophobic like me, you might even find this way of viewing the collection more enjoyable than being squeezed in there with all those people. Oh and look!!! I found a photo of the pheasant feather dress! Come on! It’s crazy right? Unbelievable.
There is also the book. I started collecting hard-cover coffee table books of places we’ve been or fun things we’ve seen and this book is a must have. Even if you aren’t a fashion junkie (which I am not). It’s exquisite.
Another fun thing about changing up where you live in the city is the change up of your routes. I was really in the habit of following the same paths to get to and from my clients everyday. Now that we’re living a little closer to Central Park the A/C/E train got me downtown to an East Village client. I would take this train down to the West Village every day and walk over to her via Waverly Place. It was about a 25 minute walk once I got off of the train, but I loved it. The weather was so nice and I got to pass the idyllic North End of Washington Square Park with it’s preserved townhouses (and Mario Batali’s Babbo Restaurant that fondly reminds me of my third wedding anniversary dinner).
Age of Manhattan (before anyone had to pay income tax and slavery was still en vogue) has taught me so much about the roots of this town and now it’s starting to become a little bit of an obsession of mine. If I had the time, I’d write a little history of the Washington Square Park, society matrons and the world of Edith Wharton, but alas… I can tell you this…the fancy of the era (mid to late 1800s I think) plowed over a pauper’s burial ground to build Washington Square Park and their well appointed townhouses. And to this day there are tales of the Park being haunted. Ooooooooo…
Cooper’s Vanderbilt family tree from reading this book. His great great great grandfather was the Dutch shipping magnate Cornelius Vanderbilt who amassed a ridiculous fortune in the 1800s. His great grandfather was Cornelius Vanderbilt II (photo above). They look alike…don’t you think? CVII owned The Breakers mansion in Newport. I didn’t realize it was historically preserved. We’re going to try to go visit it soon. See photo below. This was their summer ‘cottage’ ps. Jeeeesh.
Another obsession of mine is Apothecaries and the greatest is C.O. Bigelow right off the A/C/E on this route. It’s been around since the 1800s. They have so much good stuff in there from all over the world, I could hang out in there all day.
The baby and I were feeling like we needed a little fresh air (and a Shake Shack visit). So we went for a walk around the block to appreciate the beautiful area we were in. Here are a couple of shots of The Museum of Natural History and the Beresford, a beautiful apartment building housing the likes of the Seinfelds and the Berlins.
