The Nights on Broadway

May 20, 2012 § Leave a comment

Very sad news today: Robin Gibb has died at only 62 years old. I would like to think that he felt that he lived his life well, and that we was proud of all the fantastic music he created with his brothers. Needless to say, I’ll be listening to some of it this evening. 



(Photo: Some Cozy Night)

I Started a Joke…

September 28, 2011 § 1 Comment

So, Mr. H and I were in London for a few seconds this summer. I must admit, it isn’t my favorite city, but I suppose it has its moments. Many of these moments can be found at Claridges, which is a celebration of  the insanely glamourous Art Deco style. (However, The Carlyle does it up a tad more subtly and with far better service. There, I’ve said it.) The hotel has also preserved some rather excellent bits of More Dignified Times, such as a manned elevator with very plush little banquettes to sit on while you elevate, a truly delightful tea service, sparkling whatnots everywhere, and this thing on our nightstand:

I don’t suppose Waterworks sells one of these, but I could really use one, especially if the buttons actually delivered what is promised.

I am sorry to disappoint, but every photo I took of the interiors is too awful to post, so you will have to just visit their site to see how fabulous the place really is:

That said, all is not lost, since the most amusing part of the trip for me was a little something I found just up the road from the hotel:

I wasn’t even looking for this, as I honestly didn’t think anyone would care to memorialize where the Bee Gees wrote any of their music. Not to say the Brothers Gibb should not be memorialized and celebrated, but, really, we don’t do these kinds of things in New York. (Could you imagine???) Which I guess is why this little bit of nuttiness made me like London a little bit more this time around. Even if a decent meal and some genuinely hospitable service is in somewhat short supply.


(Photos: Some Cozy Night)

The Idiot Reel

January 20, 2011 § Leave a comment

[id-ee-uh t  reel]


A mental catalog of acts where our benign but profound stupidity is on full display. Often recalled when in the middle of a new installment for the reel.

Highlights from my Idiot Reel include feeding my dog, M, blueberry pie in bed, crossing the threshold of Astor Place to get a post-breakup haircut in 1990 and the evening when I triumphantly yelled “BEE GEE!!” to Mr. H. while trying to recall the last name of Maurice, Robin and Barry*.

Naturally, my reel contains every single time I thought to myself “How hard could it be?”, occasions when I confidently began to discuss subjects of which I know nothing about, and several bouts with my garbage disposal. If it were professionally edited, I can only assume that in between each of these episodes there would be a new shot of me looking for my keys.

I am pretty certain that we all have an IR. And if they could actually be recorded, would I be the only one who would hit “play” frequently? I don’t think so.

Aside from providing a much-needed belly laugh from time to time, The Idiot Reel keeps me from taking life too seriously. It’s also a gentle reminder that I can recover from my own mistakes. And while recovery from the 1990 “Astor Disaster” did take a while, as the stakes in life only seem to get higher and higher, that is a nice thing to know.


Ms. Keyless

*Yes, I just looked up their first names on Wikipedia. And I am now wondering if the naming of these three sons are on Mrs. Gibb’s reel. I’ll give her the benefit of the doubt and assume that they were family names.

(Photo: Some Cozy Night)

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