the family you choose

"Friends are the family that chooses you."-Hopi Proverb

Swinging through New York before I move back here in September, and having the brilliant pleasure of seeing a very small number of the lovely and amazing people I am privileged to know. Because I'm doing a couple of things professionally-luckily, mostly with friends- I got to combine business with joy: always a gift.

(Am going to change all names here, as nobody asked to be written about.)

First and foremost, a shout out to my amazing pal Erik, a musician who has played with every legend from Dylan to Dave van Ronk, and is known as "the straight Cole Porter" for his ability to write witty yet heartwrenching songs. Every woman should be lucky enough to have an Erik in her life...he lets me sleep in his spare room, brings me delicious foodstuffs at the slightest indication of peckishness, and will pick up his guitar and play something astonishing in a casual way, to illustrate a conversational point. -Of course, I have to relinquish him occasionally to the giggling gaggles of ravishing chorusgirls who stop by and implore him to come tot Minetta Tavern...but such are the vissitudes of friendship. Hooray Erik!

Last night, I pulled on a killer red dress, that  a friend custom made after I expressed an interest in wanting to look like Tippi Hedren in Hitchcock's "North By Northwest". (Tippi's outfits in "The Birds" were pretty great too, but who wants to deal with holes made by pecking?)  Strode out into the NYC dusk. -It ain't easy to stride in 5 inch heels, so maybe "hobbled confidently" might be more accurate. Forgot that a (newly strawberry) blonde who is 6'3" in heels, attracts a bit of attention no matter WHAT she looks like, and wearing a fire engine red dress might have been a wee bit of a miscalculation. By the time I got to Union Square, I had had Cheesy 80's Song "Lady In Red" sung to me by bystanders, 14 times, a total that would rise precipitously and annoyingly by the end of the evening.

Swung by a dinner party with artist friends. Walked into a discussion consisting of many colorful threads, including what it was like for one couple to walk into a fabulous Hollywood party, only to discover that the main part of the party was taking place in The Nude Room. Ahem. Although both of these folks are physically beautiful, they also cling to the possibly oldfashioned idea that one shouldn't have to eat canapes wile naked, as the crumbs become a health hazard.-We also discussed the Medieval Fashion show at the Morgan, and how much we all want to own shoes that come to a 14 inch curly point at the end. Then our hostess brought out her two week old son, and we stared at him in a fascinated and hypnotized manner for 20 minutes, until he woke up and said "Quit it guys!" so we did. 

Off to the the Regency hotel, to meet with a goddess friend who is in the same field I'm in....if you're going to pay 20 bucks per glass of champagne, it better be deductible.-As it turned out, we didn't have to pay at all., because we both are exuberant humans who talk while waving our hands around, so we spilled three glasses of champers and the management finally gave in and comped us. Gravity...it's not just a good idea, kids...it's the law!

And so home to write a few champagne inspired emails. After re-reading these in the cold light of a morning [that brought new meaning to the phrase "The Wrath Of Grapes"] , I realized that I will now have to change my name, move to Borneo, and live among the gentle natureloving indiginous people, who rather importantly, don't have access to the internet. So this might be my last entry for a while, except for ones that are written on bark and thrown into the ocean. Which sometimes take a little while to post.

Yours, in gratitude, headache and joy,

Peri