The real beach feeling has set in. I’m feeling less and less like doing anything besides swimming, walking, relaxing, being with our friends and family here. The kids are getting along amazingly. There are 6 boys aged 7-1/2 through 11. They’ve learned to play eight ball – we have a pool table here in the house. Amazing. Most amazing is that they’ve been playing pool and not playing gamecube. (I think I’d mentioned we’ve had a lot of rain – so indoor activities are pretty necessary!)

Anyway, back to the point. I’m not working too hard here. Not at all. Except for preparing to make Shabbat dinner with Ellen, I don’t want to think. So…. the post that follows is from Megan. I didn’t even have to ask her. She miraculously read my mind again.

So… my niece Madison (who is 11 going on 21) has been staying with us all week as a sort of mother’s helper to Finley (now age 6 ½ months). I hadn’t ever really spent this much time with her without her mother (my sister) and it was a little awkward at first. We spent some time dancing around each other, trying to find some common ground to stand on besides family. That common ground came last night in the form of the movie “Grease.” Yes, the 1978 movie starring John Travolta and Olivia Newton-John.

I was seven when “Grease” came out, but I remember its impact. EVERYONE dressed as Sandy or a Pink Lady for Halloween that year. There wasn’t a single person who didn’t know the hand motions to “Greased Lightning” or the boy/girl parts to “Summer Nights.” I knew that Madison had gotten the movie and the soundtrack for her Confirmation earlier this year, but I didn’t realize the movie was such a hit with Generation… (what letter are we on? Z?)

Last night I was doing work (for a certain wonderful company and according to company policy I was drinking a glass of wine while I did this work) when Madison remembered that “Grease” was on. She was so excited – the most I’d seen her all week – it was like having a different kid around. Once the movie was on, she was bummed because we caught it right at the end of “Greased Lightnin’” and she couldn’t do the dance (to which she knew all the moves.) Then we took turns singing lead and backup on “Beauty School Dropout.” It was so fun! We were bonding! Then she asked me if I knew the “Hand-Jive.” Do I know the “Hand-Jive”? I told her I could Jive circles around her. When she got up and followed Danny and Sandy’s dance that they do for the dance off, I was so proud. And when Sha Na-Na sang “Hound Dog” at the school dance I quizzed her on who sang it first. She replied, “Elvis!” That’s my girl.

At the end of the movie as the credits rolled, she started singing what she thought were the words to the theme song. “Grease is the world!” she sang at the top of her lungs. Um, excuse me little girl, “Grease is the WORD” not the WORLD. She rolled her eyes at me and said, “World, word – same thing.” Tell that to Frankie Valli ,I said. Then my charming husband chimed in with “Grease is the WORM!” Good one honey…

On a side note, Madison has “Sweet Home Alabama” on her MP3 player because it’s her favorite movie. I asked her if it was the Lynyrd Skynyrd version and she knew what I was talking about. Another proud moment. And the gap between niece and aunt grows smaller.

So we’re very relaxed here in Duck. So relaxed, in fact, that we’re not worried about the effects of DodgeBall (the movie) on our young impressionable children. And not worried about blogging. Or the torrential rains. Or just about anything else. So….

It was convenient to get a guest blogger. (I seem to get input whenever I need it most.) Regularly scheduled programming will return tomorrow. Though we might sleep late.

Dwowning, by Miz Liz

Did Elmer Fudd ever talk about “dwowning?” I feel as though I am right now, with only a wee glimmer of hope in sight. You see, after four solid days of rain, Acuweather
predicts that, following heavy rains, possible flooding, and thunderstorms this evening, it’s going to be cloudy, with some sun tomorrow afternoon and a possible thunderstorm (emphasis on “possible”).

If you’re wondering what I’m talking about, it’s been raining here in Maryland. Torrentially (is that an adverb?) raining. And it’s been raining in D.C. and Virginia, and probably, I suspect, along much of the Eastern Seaboard. The forecasters keep talking about a stalled weather system. And in the meantime, many of the roads have been closed due to mudslides (yes, mudslides) and flooding, and folks have been evacuated from their cars and homes. It’s actually pretty bad. And I feel pretty lucky right now; I have a roof over my head, my car still starts after sitting out for four days in the downpours, and save for a six-hour outage on Saturday, our power has remained on.

Last night, as I was sitting watching Treasure Hunters, and praying that the power would stay on through the downpour, thunderbolts and lightening, I heard a strange noise emanating from the kitchen. Now mind you, the cat drinks out of one of those funky fountains so the sound of running water is pretty much rote in our household. However, this was NOT the fountain; rather something that can be likened to a very distant waterfall. So I turned on the kitchen light, turned towards the noise, and noticed about three inches of water accumulating inside the windowsill and starting to run down the walls.

Having lived in NYC for most of my adult life, I must admit that when an emergency strikes, I’m accustomed to calling the super. Hmmm. Now mind you, my current “super,” (i.e., the gentleman I live with) is in Africa right now (where, by the way, the population would most truly benefit from these torrential rains) and I’m flying solo for a month. So, facing adversity in my kitchen, I decided that my best bet was to play it safe and battle the elements before they started battling me for floor space. What’s a girl to do? Grab some paper towel and start mopping the window sill, right? I think you can imagine how successful this effort was. And during this effort, I could only fantasize that Lucille Ball was smiling down on me, that is, until I realized that a bath towel wedged in the window might actually do the trick.

So here I sit, 24 hours, two bath towels, and several rainfalls later, pondering tonight’s adventure. At least I know that while the “super” is away. I can truly address those little problems that might arise without “dwowning.” Let’s hope that the rest of the area’s residents fare as well. And in honor of all of us who might feel like we’re dwowning from time to time, whatever the reason, I’d like to propose a toast with a new drink – the “. Bottoms up!

So we’re sitting here – the kids are asleep. We had a great dinner at Ocean Boulevard – complete with a Vinho Verdi. So Jason and Ellen brought their Bose ipod docking station/speaker. And I brought my iPod, they brought both of theirs, Reed brought his Shuffle, Maria (our amazing babysitter) brought hers. So, back to the story….

So the kids are asleep. My iPod – with 2500 plus songs was on. Andrew was DJ. We heard some songs from Hair, Kris Kristofferson, Chris Rock, Jethro Tull, Jackson Browne, Grateful Dead. Ellen was not a happy camper. Maria had never heard of any of the groups. (well, not all, but many) So Maria got her iPod. We were listening to Maria’s. DHT is on. I thought DHT was a drug. Then The Ataris. Isn’t that a game system?

Ellen put on Bread (Baby I’m a Want You). Are you serious? As much as we get along, I admit that my musical taste is much closer to Jason’s.

But the real point of this blog, if there is a point, is that it is so incredibly amazing. All of it. Between the 5 of us, we brought about 370 hours of music. In these little teensy boxes. And they interchangeably sit on a speaker and sound amazing.

It’s like being in the future.

And the Maker’s Mark isn’t bad either.

Kristin posted that the one of her favorite parts of being on vacation was not knowing what day it is. Good point.

But that doesn’t hold a candle to the frozen margarita that Jason just brought me. Or watching the kids try the boogie boards in the waves. Or knowing that we have a whole week of this.

Now those of you where were in my all day meeting yesterday must not take this post personally. It isn’t about you or our meeting. And even if it was, I tend to exaggerate.

I’ve been reading a lot about meetings. Evidently men like meetings better than women. That’s what the research says. (I can’t find the link right now, but I definitely saw it!) Well, they’ve got me fooled. I have a lot of meetings with women these days. And I hate meetings.

Now I don’t use the word hate lightly. When my kids say the word, I always say, “Hate is a very strong word. Can you choose another word?”

This has done two things. 1) made the boys say hate less and 2) Caused them to build their vocabularies with words such as abhor, abominate, loathe, detest, and more.

But I digress. I was talking about meetings. I don’t much care for meetings. Mostly, because not much is accomplished AT the meeting and lots of things aren’t accomplished OUTSIDE of the meetings. But even more than meetings, I abhor hearing people talk in industry-speak and political-correct-speak and I-really-don’t-know-my-butt-from-a-hole-in-the-wall-speak and it goes on and on and has no darn meaning. It sounds good. It sounds smart. But it’s nothing.

I am very fortunate to work with and for some really smart people. These are not people who have to fake their abilities. Most are confident and competent. But haven’t we all seen people who go on and on trying to look brilliant and it’s clear by the vacant looks around the room that no one, but no one has any idea what it’s about?

That is the LOOKATMEIKNOWMORETHANYOU mumbo jumbo. It sounds pretentious and it’s just plain annoying. And it wastes all our time.

In my experience, gaining the respect of a group has nothing to do with using big words. (In fact, big words and esoteric concepts lessen the odds of successfully getting the point across.) I respect a speaker who demonstrates deep understanding, clarity, the ability to back up a point of view and make a connection with the audience. The best presenters I’ve ever seen speak simply. And right to you. That is the kind of speaker I aspire to be. I think/hope I’m on the road…

Speaking of on the road, we’re heading out of town for a week of fun in the sun. Frolicking on the sand dunes of Kill Devil Hills. Basking in the warmth of the beach. Walking to our favorite ice cream shop. Getting henna tattoos. Dinner at Elizabeth’s. And lots of laughter. I might post from the beach. Not sure. So I’ll see you soon or in a week. I hope yours is good. Mine promises to be.

I just found out Andrew can’t snap his fingers. Huh? How could I not know this after 15 years?

Can you snap?

I am stunned. Shocked. Amazed.

I went to Minibar with Andrew to humor him. For his birthday. I thought it was really ridiculous.

But you know what?

It was the most amazing food experience of my life. Really.

Okay. Sit yourself down. And get ready to be amazed.

This is how the place described:

minibar by jose andres is a six seat restaurant within a restaurant located on the second floor of Cafe Atlantico, 405 8th Street NW. The innovative tasting menu features 30-35 of Jose and Katsuya’s most imaginative creations. This is food that owes as much to art and science as it does to gastronomy, food that is as much about the brain and eye as it is about the tongue and stomach, food that forces the diner to rethink food and its presentation.

So last night was the night. We scooted out of here early, jumped on the metro and comfortably arrived at the restaurant 15 minutes before the start time of 6:00 pm.

Still scoffing a little, we went in and were seated, along with 4 other people at the bar. It was beautiful decorated and looked a little like a sushi bar. We were told the “rules” — each dish would be arranged on the shelf above in front of us. We were to listen to the instructions of how to eat it and what it was and then bring it down in front of us. Then, it would be cleared and we would be given our next dish.

We ordered lovely flights of wine – Andrew and I both chose white flights, but different ones. They were delicious. We got to know Marty and Fran, who were seated next to Andrew. I had no one on my other side. Marty and Fran know nice food. We had restaurants in common and they were very pleasant company. They even knew the little out-of-the-way Spanish restaurant that we go to in Annapolis.

This is what we ate:

SNACKS
“mojito” / passion fruit whiskey sour / pork rinds with maple syrup / salmon roe cone / beet tumbleweed / saffron yogurt meringue / olive oil bon-bon / ferran adria “olives” / cotton candy foie gras

FLAVORS & TEXTURES
salmon-pineapple “ravioli” with crispy quinoa / deconstructed glass of white wine / corn on the cob / “ajo blanco” / organized caesar salad / conch fritter / oyster with wheatgrass and apples / zucchini in textures / hot & cold foie gras soup / “guacamole” / feta “linguine” / egg 147 degrees with caviar chowder / breaded cigala with lemon / philly cheese steak

SWEET END
japanese baby peaches with yogurt / apples with red wine “fredy girardet” / pina colada / saffron gumdrop in edible wrapper / fruit cocktail injection / maracuya marshmallows / chocolate covered corn nuts / halls lollipop

We took lots of pictures. Blogger is having a picture problem. Or I am. But, I can’t get them to show up here. SO, I’m posting them here. Hopefully, I can find a better solution later

Now its my turn (Andrew that is).

Yes, dear readers, I have been invited to add my thoughts for this first dually authored blog. Please be gentle……

I have a reputation as a fairly intelligent person. And one area of knowledge where I had some expertise, or so I thought, was food. I like to cook, and thought I knew something.

Well, I am here to tell you that after last night, I am now convinced that I know nothing, nada, bupkis.

Last night was one of the most eye opening experiences with food I ever had. Imagine a place where all of your preconceived notions about appearance, taste, textures, and flavor combinations are discarded and replaced with something completely different. A place where chemistry and science have as much important as the finest ingredients. That bizarre combination would begin to describe the meal we had last night.

A little background: Jose Andres is the chef, and he was trained by Ferran Adria who originated many of the techniques used last night. Take the time to read about these two – you’ll enjoy it. Andres came to Washington, DC in 1993, and been one of the driving forces behind several successful DC restaurants. We have eaten at Jaleo, and enjoyed it, and I had heard of Chef Adria, so I have been anxious to try Minibar.

I won’t bore you with a description of every dish, but I want to point out a few:

• Imagine a kumquat sized, green ovoid that just explodes in your mouth with a delicious, carbonated mojito inside.
• Or two other ovoids, one green & one black, that dissolve to taste like some of the finest olives you ever had.
• Or a skewer with freshly made cotton candy and fois gras in the center.
• Almond ice cream on a swirl of garlic oil and balsamic vinegar
• A New England Clam Chowder, made of a foamed rich bacony base, with a perfect raw clam balanced on top

My mouth is watering just remembering.

The food was beautiful and so very different, and artfully prepared by Michael & Melanie.

There are very few restaurants in this country serving food like this – WD50 in NYC, and Alinea in Chicago come to mind.

Do yourself a favor, and try one of these once. It won’t be cheap, but it will change how you think about food forever.

And now back to your regularly scheduled programming.

Megan, my sometime guest blogger, is back to save my ass again. I’m trying to get out of town. And today, I get a post from her! Well, not exactly from her, but from her friend Lisa. I don’t know Lisa but I know of her new shop, Cupcake Apparel and Shoes, in Fells Point. Fells Point is a historic and very cool part of downtown Baltimore. Anyway, Lisa has fashion on her mind, and writes:

Designers are fashionistas. (Definition: stylish, generally size 2 women, who work in the fashion industry) Fashionistas live in major cities like LA and New York, where they exist in a bubble. Within this fashionista bubble, it’s normal to order $48 entrees at tony restaurants, then pick at the meal, fearful of ingesting the calories. $450 shoes are the norm (no, seriously) and the $1200 handbag of the season (not the year, or the decade!) are a must, must have. I myself, a frequent visitor to the fashionista bubble that is the NY garment industry, have allowed myself to be convinced that I had to have that new Gucci bag. I had just launched a new business, and wasn’t sure how I was going to pay the mortgage.

On a side note, a bit of insider info: Fashionistas classify handbags into two categories, car payment bags, and mortgage payment bags. Mine was somewhere around (2) car payments, but less than (1) house payment. What a bargain!

So, designers are Fashioinistas, and therein lies the occasional problem with fashion. As a buyer for a major retailer, I observed a phenomenon that struck every few years. The designers, out of touch and living in their fashion bubble, put all their eggs in a style basket that the typical American woman can’t or won’t wear. I’m not even referring to the true average American woman, the size 16 mid-western mom, shopping at Walmart. I’m referring to the stylish, size 6, coastal dwelling, middle to upper middle class, physically fit professionals and Lexus SUV driving soccer moms who shop at Nordstrom. They wouldn’t be caught dead in some of this stuff. Western styling is a good case in point. Every three to five years, the designers (damn you Ralph Lauren!) tell the buyers and the fashion editors that we must have prairie skirts, cowboy boots, and giant chunks of turquoise. The store buyers buy into it, it all ends up on the sale rack, and down goes the Gap’s stock. Again. Sorry, Gap, but it’s true. You’re supposed to be a bastion of good old stand-bys, the jeans, t-shirts, and khakis we all know and love, but you fall into this trend trap every time.

As a boutique owner now, I’ve been barraged for the last several months by designer denim sales representatives, all of whom are touting the second coming of the skinny jean. For about five minutes, I bought into it. Then I thought again. Sure, the tops are longer and bigger, which makes this trend somewhat easier to wear. Thankfully, because these skinny leg jeans (some are 6” across at the ankle!) are also low cut. I think we’ve all seen enough of Muffin Tops. Oops! Another definition is needed. (Muffin tops: AKA, Open Can of Biscuits, AKA fat hanging over the front and sides of low cut jeans) So the silhouette is bigger longer tops over skinny, tapered jeans, or even leggings. Yes, that’s right, leggings. That’s for another article. Here’s the problem, it’s not so flattering on most bodies. The leg is so narrow, it makes even small hips look big. I was told in no uncertain terms by a size 27(translation, size 4), young customer, that she put skinny jeans on, and looked like an ice cream cone.

What’s the buyer/store owner to do? Well, it’s all about moderation. I bought some of the damn things. As an arbiter of fashion, it’s my responsibility to offer the season’s biggest trend to my customers. I even plan to buy a pair myself, but I am a fashion victim, and fortunately, have small hips. However, these skinny styles will only be a small portion of the total assortment. I also stuck with skinny styles that aren’t too skinny. Many have a 14” leg opening, which is barely narrower that what we used to call a straight leg. They’re on trend, but wearable.

The consumer needn’t even go that far to be on trend. If you preferred flares in the past, slim it down to a boot cut. If you preferred a boot cut, go crazy and try a straight leg. If you’ve already braved the straight leg, try the skinnys. It has to be less traumatic than trying bathing suits. Then, what isn’t?

Wait! There’s more good news. The best thing about these skinny jeans is they fit nicely inside your tall boots. No more crinkled, folded over, jeans with too much bulk to fit inside those sexy knee highs. Once paired with tall boots, the silhouette changes. The width and bulk of the boot creates a leg shape that is less severe, less, as my customer put it, “ice cream cone”.

So try them, don’t try them, it’s up to you. And, if you’re an investor, keep an eye on the stocks of the stores that dive in head first, and watch to see what’s on their sale racks at the end of the season. The sale rack never lies.

Okay – me again. So there you have it. What do you think? Are you wearing these jeans? Should anyone over 40?

I’m not leaving town yet, so expect more from me soon!
Wendy

I love that word. Think about what it means.

(r-märk-bl) adj.
Worthy of notice.
Attracting notice as being unusual or extraordinary.

Worthy of notice. Extraordinary. Wow.

I recently read a book that used the word throughout. The Big Moo. It was unusual, the book. It was written by 33 different people – and none was given credit for any chapter. The authors don’t profit financially from the book, either. All proceeds go to charity. I think that, in itself, is remarkable. For me, that made it all the more believable when I read about how to be remarkable in business.

One of the big lessons I took away from the book is that giving a service or product a name can make it sell. I admit it. I thought that particular part was a little exaggerated. But, in the spirit of trust and trying something new, I did it. I named a service that our company has been providing for years. And you know what? Revenue for that service has increased about 500%. And it’s easy as all get-out to sell, now.

Then, I was giving a seminar about research to a small, existing client. It was way fun, and I got to meet quite a few people on their staff that I hadn’t had the opportunity to work with and several that I’d spoken to, but had never met in person. I admit, I get pretty excited when I lecture and teach about online research. It’s just so darn fun! But, I digress.

Before I gave the presentation, I realized that there was something I’d been preaching for years, but had never named. So, I named it. (I love the name, too! It just clicked.) And I left that seminar with marching orders to send a customized cost estimate for the service. And today, I just pitched it again. And got the job. So, I’m a believer. Name it.

I didn’t start this post to be a review of a book. I just can’t get the word remarkable out of my head.

My father heard me speak publicly (in front of a group, not just in public). But what sticks with me most, is that he said I was remarkable. (As if he’s unbiased.) It was a lovely compliment. Thanks, Dad.

And since I can’t seem to shake that word, I’ve been thinking about what, lately, has seemed remarkable to me.

• Iobi. If you’ve never seen it (and you have Verizon phone service) it’s a desktop control of your phone. It’s very cool.
• The Container Store. I know, I’ve mentioned it before. But the service there is so excellent! I just read an article that said employees get 240 hours of training versus the average 7 hours at most retailers. Plus they are paid 3 times more.
• Target’s sales. I just bought a $30 badminton set for $7.50. And it’s really cute, too!
• Bluefly’s customer service. EASY returns.
• Zappo’s selection. And their service. (I love shoes.)
• Columbia, Maryland’s dedication to the arts. For a town of 88,000, it is remarkable how many concerts, performances and visual art exhibitions are supported.
• Wusthof knives. Love them.
• Makers Mark. Just ask Jeff.
• The boys discussing nitrites, nitrates, ammonia (the nitrogen cycle) and the indigenous species in different bodies of water around the world at the dinner table. They are going to a week of marine biology camp.
• Minibar. This six seat restaurant, run by José Andrés, in Washington, D.C. serves 30-35 teensy artistic and imaginative courses (about a bite a course). I’ve seen pictures. It’s crazy. Talk about doing what you love and making a business out of it. (This is for serious foodies. I’m going tomorrow night to humor the hub.)

Eileen at Just My Type often ends her posts with a question. It’s so engaging. This post, IMHO, begged for it.

So, what do you think is remarkable?