IN THEIR ELEMENT

Remember when we went to the "Rachael Ray" show? Well, the show itself was pretty boring and since Rachael was new to tv, her demeanor was somewhat awkward and unsure. However, as soon as she stepped into the on-set kitchen to film a cooking segment, she was a totally different person. She was confident and well-spoken, and even witty. I bring this up again because the same thing happened yesterday with my personal trainer. Charlotte is trained in pilates and we decided to have a one-on-one session at my house since she can't train me in pilates at the gym. When I first met Charlotte, I was apprehensive about working with her as my personal trainer because she's young (24) and seems like somewhat of a ditz. She's only been training people at the gym for a little over six months and I felt, at the time, that I needed someone more experienced. Five weeks later and I can't imagine training with anyone else. We've established a good trainer-trainee relationship and it works. So when she came by yesterday, it was a surprise to see her teaching something that she is truly passionate about. Her voice was different, her awkwardness was gone. She was confident and informative, and it was really cool to see someone as skilled as she is do pilates in person. It was a good session, and then I got to go to the gym this morning and see the "gym" Charlotte, where we had another good, if different, session.

NOT READY FOR DAYTIME

I guess I didn't need to worry about not wearing make-up to the "Rachael Ray" show as I didn't get any airtime whatsoever. Sure, you can see the back of my head for about two seconds, but only if you know where to look for me. Both Adrian and Mark get some facetime, so I'm a tiny bit jealous. It just goes to show that if you ever attend a taping, you should make sure not to be seated way in the back and you should be at least 5'10" if you are - otherwise, your face gets blocked out by all those in front of you. I now need to think of a new way to get my fifteen (or two) minutes of fame.

L.A.M.B.

Adrian isn't known for being on top of things in the fashion world, but yesterday when he saw me wearing a sweatshirt with a big L on it and I told him it that it was L.A.M.B., he knew enough to know that that's Gwen Stefani's clothing line. However, when he asked me if L.A.M.B. stood for anything and I said yes, he proceeded to guess that it stood for "Lame Apparel Making Bucks." I had to tell him that while that was an honorable, though somewhat insulting guess, it was wrong. Even after telling him the correct answer, he liked his better. I'm sure Gwen would think differently. Love. Angel. Music. Baby.

CS/1B

Walking to lunch yesterday, Adrian made me stop at a crosswalk even though I thought we still had time to cross. Sure enough, a mom and daughter headed across the street towards us even as I was arguing my point. As I gestured towards them, I noticed that it was Kyra Sedgwick and her daughter. Our second sighting in less than two months - I think we have some famous neighbors.

DEBUT

Our "Rachael Ray Show" episode is finally airing this Friday. Check your local listings for times. I should probably have waited and reviewed the episode before sharing with you all, but I trust that you will understand that we went bare bones. No make-up, no accessories...just us at our most boring finest; me in a brown sweater, Adrian in a maroon one. Let's hope we get at least a little air time.

CS/3

Meryl Streep in "The Devil Wears Prada" - well, that character was supposedly (meaning that it totally was, but the producers didn't want to get sued by outright claiming that it was) based on Anna Wintour, the long-standing editor of Vogue magazine. While lunching at Balthazar in Soho on Friday afternoon with Emilee and Maria, she walked by us (sans sunglasses!) and headed down to the powder room. I couldn't let an opportunity like this pass me by, so I ran down there after her, but I was too late. By the time I came out to wash my hands, she was gone. However, from my seat, I could see her in all her glory sitting in a huge booth against the wall lunching with what could only be her assistant. (And I'm sure that assistant was thinking of ways she could parlay her current employment into the same success the author of "TDWP" did.) She didn't seem mean...perhaps a bit skeletal, so maybe the meanness comes from hunger. But then, she was at a restaurant, so who knows?

NO STARS HERE

At the Planetarium Station post office near our apartment, you can always count on a long line of people waiting for service. The first time we went, we used the automated postal center where you can do everything yourself and we bypassed the long line. Today, however, we needed to send a package by registered mail and so we were forced to enter the long line - at lunch time, no less. I've been to post offices enough that I know you better have your paperwork filled out by the time you get to the front of the line or you won't be treated very nicely. Luckily, there were two of us, so while Adrian traversed the line, I filled out the appropriate paperwork. Not that it really mattered, as it seemed like the postal workers decided to all go to lunch at the same time, so there wasn't a big rush. When we were finally at the head of the line, the roving postal worker looked at our package and our paperwork and told us that we couldn't send our package registered mail without paper tape (we had used normal packaging tape), and no, they didn't sell any. At the same time, the heavy-accented guy behind us proceeded to harass the worker about the wait time in the line and state how all the people currently at the windows were "trying to buy the United States, it was taking them so long." We decided to forego registered mail and approached the window ready to mail our package insured and with delivery confirmation. Now let me tell you about this post office window! The worker sits behind a seemingly plexiglass(?), bullet-proof(?), bomb-proof(?) window where you must pull up a portion to place your package and then close it, so that they can then lift their end to retrieve the package and do what they do with it. I've been to other post offices in New York and they're not all like this. I'm not sure why this one needs all the extra security (or why it's called the Planetarium Station either), but whatever. The worker we got could have been a robot for all his intonation and warmth - I'm still confused how these people get jobs working in social arenas. It was all a bit much to take in before lunch, that's for sure, but our package is on its way.

RED FOX(ED) INN

Heading to Vermont last weekend with our friends Mark and Jillian, we expected fall foliage and lots of relaxation time. We got both and photos can be viewed at Adrian's Flickr site, but we also got a night that won't soon be forgotten - and not for its happy memories either. We set out to have dinner on Saturday night with a couple that we know who were staying at an inn "about ten minutes away" - at least that's what the couple told us. As we drove on windy, pitch-black roads, twenty minutes passed before we had to call to make sure we were still headed in the right direction. We arrived at the Red Fox Inn and were seated; a table of six at the inn's "late" seating - oh yes, 8:15 p.m. in Vermont is considered late. We were given menus and a list of specials on separate cards. Every single one of us at the table lives in Manhattan - a city that is known for not being cheap. I almost had a heart attack when I noticed the least expensive item on the menu was a pasta dish for $27. Plus, the menu had many stipulations: a $15 per person minimum, a $10 split charge, and an added gratuity of 20% for parties of six or more. It was just ridiculous. We were in podunk Vermont! Do you know what kind of meal you can get for those prices in the city? A fabulous one, let me tell you.

We promptly ordered two bottles of wine (desperately needed to forget about the prices) and they came out quickly enough - it was just that our Cabernet was already corked. The waitress explained that it was the last one of its kind that they had and another waitress had accidentally opened it before learning it was not the one her table had ordered. She proceeded to say that we didn't have to take it; we could try it and decide. Fine, whatever - we kept it, though we did think she should have offered us some sort of discount for accepting a bottle of already-opened wine. When it came time to order, half of our group tried to order a special, only to be told that they were out of most of them. The waitress explained that since we were eating so late, the kitchen had run out of many things. Hmmm...okay, then why put the specials card on our table in the first place? We patiently waited for our meals and ate quickly through the bread basket. When we asked for more bread, the busser asked us exactly how many rolls were we thinking we needed. We confusedly looked around before answering six. After waiting forty minutes for our food, we finally asked our waitress about the wait. She then explained to us that it was a large order for the kitchen to handle, especially since we hadn't ordered any appetizers. The gall of this place! We're so sorry that we didn't order appetizers - we figured a $35 piece of steak would surely be able to fill us up.

Our food finally came, and of course, the steaks and lamb were overcooked. By this time though, the dinner had taken on a somewhat surreal quality and we just had no more energy to complain. We even ordered desserts, but not before I not so nicely asked if they were out of anything before we decided to order. We spent the rest of the night trying to deduce how the place stays in business. How in the world do tourists think that paying those prices is acceptable? And if the clientele isn't tourists, how in the world do the locals afford a meal there? Oh, by the way, the place was packed, so go figure. We had more fun the next night staying in and having chips and dip and pita and hummus in the den of our own inn.

WHY CAN'T WE BE FRIENDS?

Everyone always says that making friends as a kid was so easy, and that it should be that way with adults, even though it's not. Maybe I was a weird kid, but I never really had an easy time making friends. Having an extremely low self-confidence level will do that to you. I usually made one good friend and stuck to them until circumstances permitted me to find a replacement. For me, it actually got easier as I got older since I started to finally gain some of that self-confidence I was lacking earlier. I'm at an age now where I feel I don't really need any new friends - but then I just moved to a new city where I know one female. And now I want a friend. I even have a candidate! There's a girl in my cooking class who has been in my group twice and I would say we've completely (platonically) hit if off. I want to be her friend, but I have no clue how to go about getting there. We have one class left and if I don't make a move then, the chance will be lost. You can't just ask someone to be your friend - though wouldn't that be great if you could? My plan for now is to find out if she reads and could possibly be in a book club, and see if I can get in on that. Then I would gain a new friend and a book club - which could lead to even more new friends.

SILENCE IS GOLDEN

When we lived in San Francisco, we used to avoid, as much as possible, watching movies at the Embarcadero Center. Known for showing independent films, the audience was also known for thinking they were too intelligent to just sit quietly and watch the movie - they usually had to comment out loud (either to the screen or to their companions) about any aspect of the film they deemed worthy. Said audience also sometimes whooped, hollered, or cheered if appropriate. It drove us nuts. Hey, we're intelligent too, but we like viewing movies in total silence. Strange concept, I know. We should have guessed there would be intelligent people in New York too. Old and intelligent - a combination that makes for a very unpleasant movie-watching experience. Unfortunately, some of the independent movies we want to see only show at one theatre in the whole of Manhattan. And this audience makes the SF one look like they should be wearing dunce caps. Yesterday, we went to see "The Queen" at this theatre. The movie focuses on the royal family, Queen Elizabeth II in particular, in the week following Princess Diana's death. Now, Queen Elizabeth II is currently eighty years old and her tried and true American supporters came out in droves, let me tell you. We're talking about an age group that didn't hear the announcement to turn off their cell phones (only one went off, but still); one that can't hear the loud rustling they make opening their cough drops (we can); one that had no qualms telling their friends about how they made Helen Mirren look exactly like the Queen (movie-technology, so up-to-date). The movie was interesting regardless of the theatre, but I just know it's going to be the only place to show "Volver" when it comes out and I can only hope that this same group will be dissuaded from attending by those persnickety subtitles. We'll just have to make do with the hip and intelligent crowd. You know, the ones that will already speak Spanish and will yell at the screen that that's not what they really just said. (Sigh.)