Trapped between 10 and 11...

After work one day, I was trapped in an elevator...by myself. What do you do when you're stuck in an elevator? I'll tell you.


Many things race through your head. Is there a chance I could survive an 11 floor drop like a cat can do? Didn't I see a Dateline NBC episode that taught us how to survive a fall? Such thoughts prove meaningless. I don't want to die in an elevator. That's just gross. Becoming a headline in the NY Post cannot happen to me but I can see the headline now...

MAD AVE LADY PLUMMETS 11 STORIES TO DEATH

               CARRYING RED ROSES AND CHILDREN'S BOOKS

Greeeaaat...

First thing's first. CALL button or ALARM? CALL. Doesn't work. If I press the ALARM button, it means this is an emergency. This is NOT an emergency. If it is, I am dead. Call my co-worker, ask her to call the front desk. It's getting hot in here and this elevator suddenly feels like its walls are closing in on me. Breathe.

Text my mom. If anything happens, 'I love you so much.' Writing my will and last testament in my head.

I'm in here with a vase of flowers from my husband for our anniversary. Will I have to leave them behind? I'm pretty sure they're wilting. What a waste. If this elevator falls and I survive, I'm pretty sure I'm losing at least one eye when that vase shatters into a million pieces.

I also have an overloaded purse (typical), and a giant bag filled with picture books. Perfect. A distraction. Hm, it's The Little House, the 70th anniversary edition of one of my favorite books growing up... Awesome.


Members of The Children's Book Council and publishing folk
at The Today Show in Rockefellar Center earlier in the week.


Voice booms in: "Hey, elevator repair guy..coming...he'll be here soon. Why didn't you press the emergency button?"

"er, I...when do you think he'll be here?" gulp. The elevators next to me going up and down are shaking mine as it hangs in between the 10th and 11th floor. I can hear people on one or both floors merrily leaving for the day and getting on these capable elevators. I'm thinking, 'really, you have it made. I might die in here today and you're talking about getting drinks tomorrow after work.' whatever...

"He'll be here soon, stuck in traffic." Radio silence.




Ann Curry tells fellow CBCer, "I read in a tweet recently, '
Readers become leaders.'

  Alone again.

I wonder if life became too good. I am happy here on the east. My grandparents are awesome. I live close to some of the most important people in my life. Sure, my job is what it is, but I am back in publishing...God must think it's time...

Stop. Pray.

Ooooh! Picture book story time. I crack open the new classic for the first time and begin reading. The house is happy. The house is in the country. The house is developed around. In the middle of  a city. There are a lot of parallels here. I'm from AZ--kind of like the country--moved to big city...Maybe I'm House. Maybe this is a sign? Impossible. I love the city AND the country. Still radio silence. Pray again. Read on. House's family moves her back to the country. Yay for House! I love this book. I'll be fine. See, picture books keep life in perspective. I swear.




A picnic at Greenwich Point with Grandpa and my uncle
and this little guy.

  Hm. Okay. Try to call my grandparents to alert them to my...tardiness...Fanny willl worry. No reception. Hm, getting through to the co-worker was a miracle. Thank you, Lord!

"Miss, the elevator repair man..is here..he's going to let you out. Jump out as fast as you can and take the stairs. Do not get onto another elevator."

"What? When?" Breathing faster. Walls closing in. Do I take the roses? What if I do and the elevator jolts and cuts my arm off? Well, that's not worth it. But I can't leave them here, they were probably expensive and we don't have much money so it was an especially valuable gift...decision made. I'll risk it. I'll sling these bags over my shoulders and hug these roses and fly through these doors. I'm at the ready.

Radio silence.

A jolt. The elevator is moving. I'm watching the numbers go UP! Up?! Noo, my chances of survival...slimmer...20. The top floor. I feel like it's an eternity but it's probably been 30 seconds. The door opens. I leap with all my might. Roses slosh all about, ruining the painstaking time it took someone to sort them so beautifully. I'm ALIVE!!!

A woman comes out of the dental office on the 20th floor and is about to step onto my elevator I just escaped from. I grab her arm, exasperated. Don't...go...in...there...I explain to her why. She hardly seems concerned. 'Sure, you try being trapped in an elevator for an hour by yourself.'

I'm taking the stairs, very happily, clutching my books, my purse, and my flowers all the way down.



Tubbers ruling the garden.

 When I get to the train, catch the 7:00. Call my grandparents. Fanny answers. "Lucy, I was worried about you." I explain the situation to her. She says, "Well, Tubbers must've known because around 5:30 he started getting agitated and pacing around." I never get home until 6:30 if I take the 5:30 which is typically what I do. Did Tubbers sense something was wrong? He seemed relieved when I walked through the gate. I saw him watching me expectantly from the warmth of my grandparents' home. He was particularly loving as we all sat together, shared a glass of wine over dinner as I retold the story.

I don't take the elevator at work anymore, haven't since. To be honest, I think I'm fine with it. It's really not that big of a deal especially after learning about all the safety mechanisms elevators have, but it is incentive to get in better shape anyway...

May Merriment



Display in Rockefeller Center



Where does the time go? It’s been nearly a month since my last post. I was hoping to write once a week, but I guess I was just dreaming because I just don’t think I can swing it. Summer is upon us! Ironically enough, with these longer days, time only seems to fly faster. That said, let me give you a quick recap on life. It’s been crazy. Weekends have been booked with family visits including a visit from Jacob, my husband, and a jaunt out to Jones Beach. But, let’s back track a bit. Last I was here I mentioned Easter photos. Well, here you go! We went to Fanny’s son and daughter-in-law’s home in Stamford for an Easter feast. Her daughter-in-law Michaela, is like the Turkish Martha Stuart. Grandpa, Fanny, and myself spent the morning prior to the feast dying eggs. She was so excited she insisted on playing the Easter bunny. Grandpa just went with the flow, per usual.

 We got to their home later that evening and Fanny went straight to work on hiding eggs for us all to find. It was quite creative and artistic but she hid the eggs in these adorable little ‘nests’ with a few candies accompanying each egg. (What a great idea!)

Grandpa had a good time hunting for eggs with us. All I can say about the feast? It was so amazing and decadent, I had a belly ache from overconsumption.



Garden Catering, wine, beer, and croquet on a spring evening...perfection.

Flash forward (the weekend I’m back from Chicago) Fanny’s brother comes for a visit. Fanny’s brother is in his 70s I believe, lives in Utah, and is a canyoneer. He and his wife eat all organic, and are practically their own farmers. Oh yeah, and her brother just happens to be the voice of Thumper from, yes, Disney’s Bambi. Thumper’s personality aligns with her brothers perfectly. He’s entertaining, hilarious, and lots of fun to be around. We all played croquet upon my arrival from work. Michaela and Fanny’s son, Jim, Grandpa and Fanny, Thumper and his wife, my uncle and myself. It was a blast. Sipping wine, laughing, getting to know each other all while the warm spring sun was setting. Tubbers even enjoyed running past us all from time to time to show off his skills. After the game, Thumper and Jim had a croquet juggling contest…something I picture Thumper in Bambi actually doing. Awesome times!



Thumper and his sister, Fanny.



 

Thumper from Bambi, juggling.

Last week was BEA (Book Expo America), which is the largest book conference in the country. This is the conference all the celebrities with new books, come to, to promote themselves. (The only celebrity I saw really, was Kirstie Alley—whoopie!) It’s giant, a sensory overload, and a TON of work. So, I wasn’t around much last week, but this past Sunday, Fanny, Grandpa, and Myself all went to see 42^nd Street at a small Stamford playhouse they have season tickets to. Apparently a few of their friends bailed so they invited me. I knew it would be fun, but boy was it difficult to muster up the desire to go after last week running around inside an over air conditioned halls of The Javitz Center. I’m glad I went. Grandpa enjoyed it so much, it couldn’t be missed. Now keep in mind, this playhouse is pretty small. It probably seats 100-150, and we were in the third row. Well, Grandpa knows all the songs so he’s singing so loudly during some of the slower songs that Fanny has to keep hitting him and shushing him. But a minute or so after, he starts singing again. Fortunately, the entire audience is filled with a sea of grey and white-haired patrons who probably don’t notice it, but that said, go Grandpa. He can carry a tune! After the lovely play, we all went to The Beach House for a yummy dinner. Grandpa and Fanny shared a shrimp salad (which was huge) and I had the fish tacos. Yum! It turned out to be a great day.

This post is getting a little long so I’m going to cut it off soon, I promise. This weekend I’m planning to go to Greenwich Point for some beach time with a friend and then Sunday my aunt and uncle are coming down from Newtown to celebrate Father’s Day with Grandpa (and us too, of course!). Let’s see if we can get another croquet game in the works!

Grandpa soaking in the sun at Greenwich Point on one of the warmer days this spring. Just me and Grandpa.

Ready, set, illustrate!

Grandpa's second sketchings

I apologize for the radio silence, friends. Life has been a little mad over the past month. Last minute work trips to Houston, Chicago, and my husband's graduation in NC...in addition to work and Fanny coming down with pneumonia, life has been crazy. But, that said, the dust is settling and summer is on its way! Hooray! So, here we go again.


My first flower arrangement using flowers from the garden.

 
RANDOM MEMORY: A quick and hilarious joke Grandpa made in response to Fanny’s razzing him about being in his pajamas in the afternoon. (Keep in mind, I myself was still in pajamas at 1:30 on a Saturday. Fanny and I were both reading The NY Times at the kitchen table. It was pouring rain outside. Grandpa had left about an hour prior to change into his clothes for the day. Enter Grandpa, in his pajamas)


Fanny: “George! What have you been doing? Have you just been lying up there this whole time?”

Grandpa: “Lie? I never lie. I always tell the truth.”

Grandpa at work

Fanny: “Oh, you’re so witty, aren’t you?”

Me: laughing…hard!

Back to story:

I had to either buy a birthday card (which I typically don’t like to do unless I can decorate it to fit a design I’m going for) for my friend's 30th or make one. I used to make them all the time but have had difficulty finding the time todo so.



This little man came out of our first illustrating initiative

 Well, after a delicious and healthy dinner, my uncle (who’s visiting from D.C. to help care for Fanny and George) suggested we set up a little art studio on the kitchen table to inspire Grandpa to draw (he’s an amazing doodler and artist, in general). I made a card for my friend, not even remotely close to the creative, most talented way my Grandpa creates illustrations...Check out the results! It was difficult to inspire Grandpa at first, but once he started...

 I’ll keep the stories coming, and I still have some pics to show you from Easter…

Old Greenwich: Yes, it's that old

So, periodically, I'll be walking home from the train or just out and about and I see this guy on his horse and buggy with his dog.  Well, my friend Kelly was able to capture this fabulous photo of this mysterious Dickens-like character....you know, just taking care of daily errands like banking. I wonder if Wells Fargo was the first bank to offer drive-thru windows back in the pioneering days of horses, wagons, and cowboys. Hmmm...something to investigate.

Since my grandparents know every soul in town who's 60 and above, I'm going to ask them about this fine fellow. I'll be back here with more, if they have any information about him....

Attic Treasure

My grandparents are getting a new roof in the next few weeks so last weekend, we cleaned out the attic to prepare for the monumental event. In cleaning it out, Fanny and I found a family treasure, a poster my aunt created for my grandfather’s 75^th birthday party. This was one of the few times our east and west families united in one place when we were young and it was a blast.

My family of six drove across the country to celebrate it with everyone. I remember only snippets of it, but we loved our east coast family. They seemed so exotic. They live in a place where everything was so green and the houses were made out of wood, and it just seemed old. You see, we were raised in Arizona, so naturally, the desert isn’t quite green. It’s colorful, but not green. Homes are made out of brick or adobe and usually have only a single floor. Stairs and cellars and attics were so fascinating to us growing up.

Anyway, I pull out this poster which is at least 3 ½ ft tall, covered in cobwebs, spiders—dead and alive, and the tape is so dried out and old it practically evaporates when I peel it back from its 16-yr-old grip. We have got to see this. And more importantly, Grandpa has to see it. I roll it out on the living room floor which takes at least 20 minutes. It’s so tightly rolled it doesn’t know anything other than the life of a tightly wound poster. With the help of some living room furniture, I’m able to peel back time. My aunt, who is a brilliant artist, made it when I was 13 yrs old, the year of his 75^th. How crazy. Crazy that we’re here and Grandpa is 91 now. I’m nearing 30. Where did that time go? I bring Grandpa into the living room and he just gazes upon it for a while. Staring at the names, the image of the Dawntreader, my aunt’s birthday card signature character…and he smiles. Fanny peaks down from the stairwell and says, “what are all those pictures at the bottom?”

“It’s Grandpa with an apple on his head.”

“Why does he have an apple on his head?”

“Because, Grandpa always took and continues to take silly photos.”

Grandpa laughs and growls at Fanny.

“Oh, George!” as she scurries back up to the attic to filter through old ribbon and wrapping paper.

“I must have had a great time,” Grandpa says.

“Yes, Grandpa, don’t you remember the three uncles dancing in coconut bras and grass skirts for you?”

He bursts into laughter. Does he remember? Doesn’t he? It doesn’t matter. He loves the idea of it all.

Symphony and dinner of...children?

Master of his domain, Mr. Tubby Toby the Tabby

Sunday Evening's Post:

It was a beautiful day today, and in the sixties with a bit of a nippy breeze.

Originally, we were going to head over to Greenwich Point for a picnic, but decided against it and shared lunch in the sun with the door slightly ajar for Mr. Tubbers. Tubbers likes to run in and out of the house pretending like he controls the world. It's quite adorable, actually. The day was off to a very relaxing start.

This particular afternoon, we picked up one of Fanny's friends, Stella, as we had an extra ticket to the symphony, and drove over to the high school  to watch The Greenwich Symphony. (I think Tubbers was rather forelorn when he saw us leaving...he was standing by the door looking at us longingly before we left. Poor little guy).

The symphony was beautiful.  Grandpa and I both enjoyed listening to the music with our eyes closed for a good portion of it...it's a good thing he didn't start snoring. I can sympathize with him. It can be difficult to stare at the stage for 2 hours.

Pre-spring photo of the back garden...

We went to dinner at a VERY yummy restaurant called The Ginger Man. If you want a good sandwich/salad, I highly recommend it. I had the Applewood smoked ham with grilled onions and brie sandwich, Grandpa had a pear and gorgonzola salad, Fanny an eggplant sandwich which she gave half of to Grandpa. Grandpa was skeptical of eggplant containing any eggs, but he ate part of it despite his apprehension, Stella had, hm, I don't remember now. 

(I'm taking note of a few things while I'm here. Grandpa loves salad, anything plant, really. I've always been a salad lover too, but I'm guessing it really is the secret to his longevity, that and a good sense of humor, of course.)

So, we're sitting at the table, Grandpa to my left side and Fanny and Stella facing us from the wall. Above them there is an old beer advertisment with an illustration of a rather large belligerent looking man with a bolbus red nose drinking a foaming beer out of a big glass mug. Grandpa points to it and says, "Hey, Lucy, there's a guy for you."

"Oh, yeah, Grandpa. He's a real catch isn't he?" I smile. What's next?

He just snickers. Then he captures a snippet of Fanny's conversation with Stella. ..."I was thinking about it the other night...." She says.



"What, about sex? That's what she thinks about all the time. I bet you didn't know that about your mother, did you?" He snickers himself into a laughing fit. Fanny just rolls her eyes, and I laugh. He's on a roll tonight, that's for sure! Note that Grandpa thought and periodically thinks I'm Fanny's daughter. This doesn't bother me in the slightest, don't get the wrong idea.

We're looking over our menus deciding what to order when a child screams from behind us. Grandpa, quick as a whip leans towards me and says, "You better be careful what to order, they're killing children back there, who knows what you'll get."

Dinner was great, and while we're awaiting the bill, Grandpa is relaxed with his hands on his outstretched and rolled-up napkin. "What are you doing with the napkin, Grandpa?"

"Come here and I'll show you," he says, while taking it and putting it up to my neck with a devilish grin. "He he he..." laughing fit ensues. 

BUT they soon end. It was a really good day. 

 





An Introduction Part Deux

Is my heart on my sleeve? Always. So,without further ado, I invite you to take a drive with me through a fascinating part of my life right now with some incredible people in Greenwich...

Last weekend was perfect. Last Saturday, one of my bff's-for-life invited me out on the town for an Irish pub crawl or, maybe it was called the Irish Stroll in downtown NYC. Was it awesome? Yes. Did I feel far too old to partake in it? Yes. And yet somehow, I felt alive, young, and obscenely ridiculous--which I believe is how life should be a lot of the time. It's more like, middle-school immaturity with beer. Silly. Pure silliness. If you know me, you can attest to this.

I came home late, took an 11 o'clock train from Grand Central Station, and fell asleep...awaking at the kick of an irritated conductor's foot in the leg to get up and out in Stamford. Thank GOD Stamford was the next town over so I snagged a cab and hurried home...to the safety and warmth of one of the twin beds in my cozy upstairs room in my grandparents home. I slept until ten, then made breakfast and read The NY Times, naturally. The day was off to a good start, this Sunday. Grandpa came downstairs still wearing his robe, just his robe. Merry, jolly, and ho-hum singing all the way. This is my grandpa. He has to be one of the most laid back 91-year-old men you'll ever meet. Especially a 91-year-old who doesn't remember the conversation he just had with you moments ago. But he can tell you he had children, he had a dog named Pal and a crow growing up named Inky Inky. He can tell you he worked in NYC, and that he had a house in Breezy Point, NY (a skinny stretch of ocean beachfront to NYC's outer harbor. I initially thought it was an island until I was corrected). He knows his parents' names, he knows his father was an important architect, and that he himself worked with the great Maurice Sendak before Where the Wild Things Are, and you can bet he knows it's time for a glass of wine at 5 o'clock.

So...going back to that morning. Grandpa came down and after Fanny, his wife, told him to, he went back upstairs to put on clothes. 

"Lucy doesn't need to see you in just a robe! Go put on some clothes. Are you wearing underwear?!" 

After a quick assessment of the situation (my head turned towards the burner), "No! Go put on some clothes!"

Grandpa comes down an hour later with two pajama tops on, jeans, sailing shoes, and a grin. "George! TWO pajama tops, aye? Well, okay," says Fanny.

We eat breakfast, and Grandpa, who is probably the one and only single last gentleman in the world, asks, "Lucy, would you like to read the NY Times?" "No Grandpa, Thank you! I am still working on this section."

(Repeat above question/answer 3 times)

I throw on some clothes and decide that we need to go outside. It's daylight savings. I just changed all the clocks, and the sun is out in Connecticut. I'm thrilled. It's time to take Mr. Tubbers outside for a walk.I tell Grandpa and Fanny I'm going to mosey outside. Fanny follows me outside. We end up gardening. I've never gardened. I'm from Arizona. No reasoning needed. Mr. Tubbers can't believe he's allowed out and clings to the side of the house, he's never been allowed outside in his 3-4 years of life, so this is quite exciting. 

I learned how to use pruners. Mr. Tubbers, Fanny, and I broke up branches, clipped back bushes. Grandpa came out and helped and it all came naturally. He knows his home. He knows everything about what he's been doing for years and it felt good to be in the sun (He, like me, or rather, me, like him, are sun worshippers). After our work in the garden, we shared a beer, had lunch, and sunned with Mr. Tubbers on the porch. 

I noticed something profound. Something I've noticed several times since I moved here in October. He seems happier, more talkative, and overall satisfied after a day filled with activity. Pan over to my first Christmas in Connecticut--it was quite amazing. We spent Christmas Eve at Fanny's son and daughter-in-law's home. We had quite a dinner, drank lots of wine. We all sang old songs from the 30s/40s on the drive all the way home. Grandpa singing the loudest, naturally. Then, when we got home. the party continued with more music and Grandpa dancing with myself and Fanny. It was a truly epic moment in my life.

And, to close this post:

Last weekend's work and revitalization in the sun spurred his active humor and good spirit at dinner. He was jolly, joked about the cat Mr. Tubbers. And when it was time for bed, he said 

"Well, Lucy, we'll leave you to read your dirty books."

"Grandpa! Excuse me?"

"He he he."

"I gave that book to her, George. There is nothing dirty about it!" protested Fanny.

"I'm sure," he said. "That's how I know it's dirty! You gave it to her to read!" exclaimed Grandpa laughing himself into a coughing fit.

"I wish!" she said.