Dress For Success

Hello World, Happy New Year! Here's buckets and buckets full of all the very best wishes for a happy 2016, with good health, security, and prosperity at every turn. As Bill says, even if 2015 was excellent for you, our hope is that the new year will be even better yet still, however impossible that might sound. Of course, I always say that this is how we know we haven't all died and gone to Heaven, because things are not perfect. On the other hand, if things were perfect, let's face it, all of the persnickety sticklers and cantankerous curmudgeons like me would have nothing to keep ourselves occupied with, and we've all long since come to understand that idle hands are the devil's playthings, heaven knows. So please feel free to go right ahead and enjoy the bright shiny new year responsibly, and remember before you do anything stupid, ask yourself: "Do I really want everyone in the world to see this on Facebook?" Meanwhile at work, I happened to bump into one of our tenants out in the parking lot last week, along with her tiny Yorkshire terrier, who was all decked out in her holiday finery for the occasion. The little darling was a sight to behold in her very special Santa suit, complete with all-over sequins and a fancy bow at the back, plus ribbons in her hair so that the cuteness quotient was totally off the charts, believe me. I told both of them that it certainly made my day, and that's all I could say about it. And while we're on the subject of getting all dolled up, our local newspaper recently ran a front page story in their Life & Style section about finding that perfect little black dress for holiday entertaining, and suggested that I head over to the venerable department store Lord & Taylor for their vast selection to suit every taste. What's trending now, according to the store's fashion director, is what the newspaper described (and apparently without irony) as, "Dresses with beading, sequence, or a touch of Lurex woven into the fabric." Frankly, a dress with sequence would make me nervous about getting to my destination all in one piece, and with my dress intact, rather than arriving separately in disconnected segments, thanks so much not. Of course, the poor over-burdened spell-checker is not going to prevent anyone at the newspaper from the misuse of a perfectly acceptable word like "sequence" in the place of "sequins" as it should be, although even a cursory examination of either word would be all it would take to ascertain which is the correct one under the circumstances. Otherwise, what you would end up with would be a wardrobe malfunction in spades, and that's not just the rhinestones talking, believe me. Speaking of our worthy tenants at work, it was last week that the estimable Marjorie from the dry cleaners trotted over with a large package of Godiva chocolates for the business owner, in honor of the holidays, and also a little something for me, which I thought was so nice, since I'm really just a temp there, after all. I admit that my enthusiasm was tempered somewhat, when the object in question turned out to be a very decorative Kate Spade mug (no doubt on the pricey side, as befits a designer item) boldly emblazoned with the letter M in several places, which could not be overlooked, or confused with anything else in any way. And try as I might, I couldn't suppress the thought that sprang immediately to mind, that someone had given the mug to Marjorie as a gift, which made sense for her with a monogram M - but since she didn't want it, she turned around and passed it off on me, where frankly, the "M" part of the gift made no sense whatsoever. But far be it from me to cast aspersions on anyone heaping presents on me for the holidays, or their gift-giving choices, so you can be sure that I accepted the maligned article not only gratefully, but also as graciously as I could muster. Mind you, it could have come from Lord & Taylor with sequence, which would turn drinking out of it into a test of endurance that I would not be equal to, I dare say. In other holiday news, we greeted the big day on Friday upstate at the cabin in the woods with my sister - although admittedly, it was a little hard to get into the spirit of the thing when it was 70 degrees and sunny the whole time. Or as one wag in our local paper referred to it recently, "summer wonderland" (or perhaps it was "winter summerland") but in any case, I doubt they'll be writing many Christmas carols about it, with sunburn nipping at your nose instead of Jack Frost, and countrysides covered with fog rather than snow. But the company was convivial and everything was delicious as usual (surely not more seasonal chocolate lollipops!) and we were soon in a holly-jolly frame of mind, as if we were snugly cosseted at the very North Pole itself, by jingle. After brunch, we took advantage of the fine weather to bring carrots to the neighborhood horse (who was very much in favor of the idea, I don't mind saying) and then took in the various sights and attractions at nearby Forsyte Park, where there is certainly no lack of things to occupy even the most demanding patrons, and we have the pictures to prove it, believe me. Traipsing through playgrounds can be hungry work, so we hurried back to the cabin for stuffed shells and tortellini, followed by dessert, and there were no complaints on that score, I can assure you. Alert readers may recall that the SuperLodge in Kingston had been bulldozed previously, and so was not an option for us to stay overnight, but fortunately, the Quality Inn was still across the street, and unlike Bethlehem, there was room at the inn, even though it was Christmas. Having learned our lesson too many times in the past, we had checked in earlier in the day, and turned up the heat in the room, so we were all set when it came time to settle in for the night. In the morning, it was back to the cabin for our hosts' famous pancakes, which we made short work of, and I ought to know. There was no time to dawdle, because we had been invited to visit our cousin and his family in Walden for the afternoon, which worked out for us, since we could leave directly from there and already be closer to home. Between the 6 of them and the 4 of us, it soon turned into quite the raucous mob, especially when we started playing parlor games that were not for the faint-hearted, I can tell you that. ("Luke, I am the father of your country, by George!") All too soon, the dark of night had crept upon us unawares, and it was time to bid our fond farewells, however reluctantly. Our parting sorrow was offset by the inviting prospect of dinner at Denny's, always a special treat of travel for us, and we grabbed our trusty GPS to lead us safely there, and on the double, if not sooner. Alas, the occasionally erratic GPS picked this moment to lose its concentration, and instead of the warm and welcoming cozy confines of our favorite restaurant in Newburgh, the navigation system left us high and dry smack in the middle of nowhere, looking for all the world like Chainsaw Bob was just about to leap out of the bushes, one step ahead of the Zombie Apocalypse, and no doubt, a basement full of curvy co-eds in their lingerie with broken flashlights, I shouldn't wonder. Personally, when it comes to lingerie, I prefer mine with sequence, if you please. Elle