Luck Me

Well ... I lost my wallet again.

As I wrote before, I was robbed in Granada. And this weekend, just as I was about to go to the airport to return to NYC, I left my wallet at the gas station where I'd refueled my rental car. When my parents, who were nearby, went to look for it -- it was gone (and later, I found out someone tried to charge something to my credit card). And getting through airport security, while not impossible, isn't pleasant when you have no identification whatsoever.

So, yeah, it's been that kind of year. But if this whole karma thing works, that must mean 2010 will be fucking amazing, right?

Right?

But while 2009 has been quite the roller coaster ride, it's been fun. Sure, I've experienced mishaps, nursed a wounded heart on a few occasions, endured professional setbacks, and I didn't do nearly all the things I wanted to do. And I often felt a little lost, and that I was moving in the opposite direction as my peers and friends. But I lived, I learned. And I am thankful for that.

• I've been to eight of the 38 restaurants on Eater's Must Eat List, and my first 2010 resolution is to eat at eight more.
• OK, winter is my least favorite season and I pretty much dread the whole thing, but I am sort of looking forward to the first snow. A little.
  
• I'm also looking forward to getting a real Christmas tree, one that isn't two feet tall and potted. I love love love that pine-y smell. Can't be beat.
  

Homeless for the Holidays

My parents are asleep in the next room, while I "sneak" a glass of wine. They arrived yesterday and leave tomorrow for Raleigh, where I'll meet up with them and my brother next week for Thanksgiving.

It feels a bit strange to spend the holiday in Raleigh now that none of us live there. The only reason we're going there is because my brother is attending a wedding in the area, and my parents are visiting because it's my dad's 60th birthday. Otherwise, I don't know if I'll be in North Carolina for future Thanksgivings -- or Christmases, for that matter.

(I may not be there this Christmas, so L., if you're reading this, I'm sorry if I don't get to meet H.)

So if Raleigh isn't home anymore, I guess that means ... I'm a full-fledged New Yorker now?

I'm a ... Yankee?

Family Ties

Last night was the third season finale of 'Mad Men' and I've been either watching it, thinking about it, talking about it or writing about it ever since. I've probably watched the episode in its entirety three times already, and certain scenes more than that.

It was an exceptional hour of television, to cap off a standout season. Year 3 or thereabouts is danger time for most series, when viewers' infatuation wears off and the cold, hard reality of episodic television sets in. Think about 'Lost'; in season 3, we got episodes like 'Stranger in a Strange Land' (Jack gets tattoos!), 'Par Avion' (Claire goes to the birds!) and the much reviled 'Expose' (Nikki/Paulo exist! Which I actually found hilarious). 'Lost' luckily rebounded, once the showrunners declared an end date.

'Mad Men' hasn't set an end date, but last night's finale felt like the closing of a chapter. The unraveling of characters and relationships throughout the season -- Roger checking out mentally, Joan's departure, Sal getting fired, Pete about to jump ship after missing a promotion, Peggy being wooed by Duck -- came to a highly satisfying conclusion.

And it was fun. The episode had all the makings of a caper or heist film, where different pieces come together to form a cohesive team with a single goal. I can't tell you the glee I felt when Roger left to make that phone call, because I knew it could only mean: Joan! (My colleague wrote that she's never had a bigger crush on anyone real or fictional than Joan Holloway Harris. I quite agree.)

In the scene depicted above, when the triumphant team of Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce (totally naming my band that!) gathers at the Pierre in their makeshift office, you realize: This is a family.

So it's no wonder that just at that moment, Don goes to call Betty to let her go to Reno for a divorce. He's able to do that because he's found another family to replace the one that he's losing. And while this is not the picture-perfect family he always dreamed of ... it's the one that's right.

For me, the key scene of the entire episode, and of the three seasons so far, was the one between Don and Peggy. I was struck by how humbled Don was. Someone recently told me that love humbles you. And so here Don is, hat in hand, telling Peggy that if she turns the job down, he will "spend the rest of my life trying to hire you." Isn't that love? Not in a romantic way, but not in a strictly professional or platonic or mentor-y way, either. Don and Peggy have always had a connection, an affinity, a common view of the world. And it's indefinable and inexplicable and mysterious. Like attracts like; they belong together.

I won't even attempt to talk about what might happen next season; my 'Mad Men' predictions have been woefully wrong.

In other news:
9. Attend at least two: Knicks, Rangers, Mets and Yankees games

Oughts and Ought Nots

I recently bought tickets to a Passion Pit concert ... in 2010. It freaked me out a little, because the idea of the year 2010 seems so space age-y. Shouldn't we be commuting on hovercrafts, alongside intelligent androids, while downloading information straight into our brains?

But, here we are, just a couple months away from 2010. The Oughts (the Ohs, the 00s, the 2000s, whatever) are almost over. God, time flies. Doesn't it feel like the Millennium was yesterday?

Well, 2009 (aka Year 30) sure passed by in the blink of an eye. The list probably won't get completed, but ... hey, if people can roll over their vacations days and cell phone minutes, I can roll over list items. Year 31, here I come!

To add:
28. Get plants, keep them alive
29. Kiss someone under mistletoe
30. Learn to drive a stick shift

To cross off:
21. Finish reading 'The Grapes of Wrath'
Finally! And it didn't appeal to me any more than when I was 16. I don't think I'll be cracking open 'The Scarlet Letter' or 'The Crucible' anytime soon.

Bright Eyed and Bushy Tailed

I was hanging out with a friend tonight, one who's much younger than me at the age of 23. He's sort of the younger brother I never had. We were discussing our romantic travails --well, mostly, his romantic travails as I have none -- and it struck me, forcefully, how very differently we look at life.

For him, every door is open; everything is possible. Every girl he meets is a potential future waiting to unfold. For me, the paths are narrowing, the options growing fewer and every guy I meet is a confirmation that the pool is ever shallower. I mean, I've always been a pretty cynical SOB (some of my readers have known this for years), and I don't regret any of these past 7 years of my life -- high points and heartbreaks alike. But as my friend and I zipped down Manhattan in a taxi, and I looked out at the lit and unlit windows, and all the untold stories within, I envied that wide-open feeling, that sense that anything could happen.

Is that what growing up is -- confinement and shuttered doors and practicality? What is, instead of what if?

Last year, around this time, I had dinner with a a friend of mine, his new girlfriend and another mutual friend (my gay "date"). It was just before the election. My friends and I were all 30 or on the verge; she was 24 or 25, new to New York. I remember thinking she was just so young and naive and silly; she didn't even plan to vote, in what I considered one of the most important elections we might face in our lifetimes. She was very passionate about her work at a gallery, but she really felt destined for something "important" -- like, marketing for a foundation or designing a charitable T-shirt line. My equally-sardonic "date" and I looked at each other in horror. Who was this newborn creature and why was our friend dating her?

Later, her boyfriend asked for my opinion (though, of course, he wasn't really asking me; he would've still dated her, regardless of what we said). And I replied, tactfully, "She seems nice. Very bright eyed and bushy tailed."

Now, though, it sounds less like the veiled insult I meant it to be. Now, that very optimism and openness sounds appealing .... I could use a little less cynicism, a little more bright-eyed, bushy-tailedness. Couldn't we all?

Boo

Halloween's coming up and people invariably ask what costume I'm planning to wear. To which, I respond: Sigh.

I don't do Halloween. I place it in the same category as New Year's Eve, Valentine's Day and my birthday -- pseudo holidays I don't care about. But people always expect you to "do something" and express profound disappointment when you don't.

Halloween falls on a Saturday this year, which means more parties and such than usual. And I'd like to attend -- except I'll look like a sourpuss if I don't dress up. Sigh. I just want to go to see a concert and have fun my way. Is that such a great offense?

Apparently it is.

(Aside: I think Halloween falls just behind NYE as the most pressure-filled "You Must Do Something Or Else You're Lame" holiday of the year. Most people are sympathetic to the single person's plight on Valentine's Day, and you can usually find a friend or two in the same situation. And birthdays of non-numerical significance generally get a pass. Luckily, I've done the big 30 thing, so I'm probably safe for another decade.)

So, I'm wracking my brain for a costume that a) isn't unbearably stupid or slutty, b) fun enough to pass muster at a party (so no "going as myself" or "I'm an undercover spy"), and c) won't look ridiculous at a concert later. Wish me luck. Sigh.

• My first attempt at homemade pie crust today did not go well at all. I didn't even bother with filling and baking it, I just trashed the whole thing. I don't think the butter was chilled enough and the dough sort of fell apart. On to the round 2 ...
  
• This is the worst sports time of year for me because I don't follow baseball or football, tennis is pretty much over and college basketball hasn't really gotten underway. I think I've settled on adding hockey, but it's incredibly difficult to get into any sport just like that. In any case, this doesn't solve my problem of feeling left out of the collective sports conversation because nobody follows hockey.
  
• I've seen the end of 'The Office' wedding episode way too many times to be healthy. If you didn't happen to catch, go watch it now. It's cued up; make sure to wait around to see Jim's last expression, around minute 17:50.
  

Mishap City

I'm writing this from home at 10:30AM, instead of busily working at the office, because I woke up to no hot water this morning.

This has happened to me before, of course (I live in New York), and actually happened with some frequency at my West Village apartment. This is the first time it's happened here in Carroll Gardens, though.

What's noteworthy, really, is that it happened right now. It's been a week of mishaps for me. I've become a klutz -- slipped down the stairs last Wednesday, ate it on the sidewalk Saturday, fell off a bar stool last night. I apparently can't even cross the street, since I've almost gotten run over by bikes twice recently. I messed up a friend's vacation dates -- also the second time I did that lately.

My co-worker thinks this is her year of technical difficulties (seemingly every electronic device she owns has broken). This and my string of calamities makes me wonder whether bad luck reproduces. I was joking to her that, since she's had to get so many new gadgets, she won't have to worry about them for years. So maybe I'm just getting all the mishaps out of my system. At the very least, I know I'm prone to them right now and can watch out. I should feel lucky that I still haven't ever broken a bone or gotten stitches.

Knock on wood.