Lucky, lucky me (to be in Miami)

This--THIS--was the incredible view from my 14th floor corner unit hotel room at the very luxurious Fountainbleau in Miami Beach Tuesday. And yes, I sat by those inviting pools with two of my old colleagues, finishing Unbroken and wolfing down an Indian-spiced shrimp wrap.

What did I do to deserve this Cinderella-at-the-ball treatment? I said yes to participating in a panel discussion at a shopper marketing insights conference. And it turned out to be a really fun panel, filled as it was with lively, personable, funny representatives of each generation.

Baby boomers Rich Kizer and Georganne Bender are professional speakers/retail snoops and hilariously self-deprecating. Apparently Boomers want large print labels and no-slip carpet floors in stores, but it's "not because they're old!" Marketer Isabel Villegas represented the Gen X Latina (dispelling the myth that Hispanics aren't heavy Internet users and reinforcing the stereotype that they like to shop in big family groups) and I offered the opinions and concerns of the Gen X mom ("It's a scary world in which to be raising small children. We're looking for brands that incorporate sustainable practices, reduce packaging, treat animals humanely, and give back to the community.") Our token Millennial was Sasha Halima, a quick-witted tell-it-like-it-is PR gal in NYC and avid blogger/tweeter who shared Millennials' close relationships with their moms ("I call my mom from the store and ask her what brand to buy").

Since the rehearsals and our actual panel took up only 3 or 4 hours of my time in Miami, I was able to take a bus to Lincoln Road mall in South Beach and soak up the atmosphere in the uber-cool lobby lounge Bleau, which is lit from below and features live music.

Catching the stinkeye to Miami

I got a robocall from American Airlines about an hour ago. My 7:45am flight to Miami was canceled and now I'm leaving O'Hare at the ungodly hour of 5:45 tomorrow. I've yet to count backwards to figure out for what time I should be setting my alarm clock so that I can be showered and in the O'Hare security line by 4:15.

Why am I flying to Miami during spring break? If you guessed it was to watch my children frolic in the pool at the Hotel Fountainbleau, guess again. I'm spending not quite 2 days in Miami Beach so that I can represent the Generation X shopper at SymphonyIRI Group's annual summit. I'm on a panel designed to give senior marketers a taste of the differences between shoppers of different generations. It's not entirely unlike the Mom Blogger panel I participated in 2 years ago in Las Vegas, but this time I'm even more professionally prepared. Not only as a shopper born in the mid-1970s and a mother, but because I work specifically in the shopper marketing discipline.

Since it's a panel discussion, I can't predict exactly where the conversation will go, but I'm hoping I will get a chance to talk about social shopping (everything from checking out product reviews to asking for opinions on Twitter on Facebook), category-specific paths to purchase and mobile-enabled shopping behaviors. I've also been asked to come up with Moms' Top 5 Fears. Using a pseudo-scientific blend of Leo Burnett BrandShelter research and my own survey of mom friends, I came up with the following.

1. Gas prices will go up

2. My town, city or state will raise sales, property or income taxes and fees

3. Feeling of powerlessness in the face of natural disasters, global warming, religious fundamentalism and corporate greed

4. Bullying/cyberbullying

5. Unable to save enough money for retirement and children's college educations


How do these fears align with yours? It's not too late to tell me!

The karma of sharing kids' stuff

The coat, dress, tights & shoes are "new"

While I'd donated money to the Red Cross to support those affected by the triple crises in Japan, I welcomed the opportunity to help in a more personal way last week. A friend I know from a private online mothers group was arriving in Chicago from Tokyo with her husband and two little girls. Due to the relief effort going on, their airfreight wasn't going to leave Japan any time soon. And while the weather here is still bone-chillingly cold, all the stores are selling spring and summer clothes. Exclusively.

So I ran around the house gathering up extra coats, hats, sweaters and mittens and brought them downtown to hand off to her husband. While I was at it, I rounded up some outgrown toddler shoes and boots for my coworker's daughter.

And karma came back to me in a big way. Saturday morning one of the mothers from Z's 1st grade class swung by with three bags full of hand-me-down clothes and shoes from her (slightly bigger) daughter. Not only did the clothing provide 2 hours of entertainment for a playdate (the girls matched outfits and put together a pajama fashion show), it has entirely relieved me from buying Z sneakers, leggings and pajamas for the next year! And Saturday afternoon another friend came by to return Z's 12" bike, which I'd loaned to their daughter late last summer. The sun might have faded the bike seat and handlebar cushion, but they'd added training wheels and a sassy/shill ladybug bell, making it a thrilling arrival for A, who's decided she's ready for a big girl bike this summer.

What's wrong with a good, old-fashioned spelling bee?

Maybe it's my competitive side, but I was disappointed to find out that my daughter's elementary school has replaced the classic spelling bee with something called "The Great Lincoln Spell Check." Unlike a spelling bee, which rewards the very best spellers with fame and glory (and their parents with pride and joy), the Spell Check requires students to solicit pledges from friends and family for each word they spell correctly on a grade-wide spelling test. And it's a fundraiser, of course, with the monies benefiting the school PTO.

We were given the 50 words all the first graders will be tested on and, while Z stumbled on 3 or 4 of them the first run-through, she could spell them all correctly within about 15 minutes. Which means I need to figure out how much I'm willing to donate to the PTO and divide it by 50 to come up with my pledge per word.

It's a bummer because Z's a fantastic speller and I know she'd kick some major spelling bee butt.

Happy Purim

Two Queen Esthers

The Jewish religion isn't exactly brimming with happy, festive holidays, but we do have Purim. Imagine the costume parade and sweets of Halloween mixed with the retelling of a classic story and plenty of with noisy audience interaction (this year our temple did it in the vein of A Prairie Home Companion) -- all capped off with a kiddie penny carnival.

To say the kids had fun would be an understatement. Between the dressing up, the carnival games, the moon bounce, the cake walk (which A won!), the hot dog lunch and the prize table, it was pretty much a child's dream come true. And unlike previous years, when all of the entertainment was crammed into the social hall and it was all you could do to keep your under 4s from getting trampled, this time the games and entertainment were spread out throughout the building. It was, dare I say, fun.

Speaking of Purim, I've been recommending The Gilded Chamber for months. It--like The Red Tent--is a highly readable retelling of a famous Hebrew Bible story. In this case, it is a sexed-up story of the Megillah (the Purim story) from the perspective of Queen Esther, a Jewish woman who rises up from the harem to marry the king and save her people from the evil machinations of the king's advisor.

The Purim carnival wasn't our only entertainment this weekend. Friday night Z and I attended the First Grade Night Out at her elementary school, which consisted of an hour and a half of circle dancing in an 80 degree gymnasium. I had to strip off my sweater to avoid passing out, but it was a blast. And on Saturday Z and her dad accompanied some friends to see a community youth production of The Wizard of Oz while A and I enjoyed a rare day alone together. We hit up story time at the library and had a lunch date at Blue Max. Then she pretended to nap and I finished Mockingjay while we waited for her best buddy from preschool to come over for a playdate. Saturday night Josh and I left the girls with a sitter. We had wine and cheese at the Marion Street Cheese Market and then went to a local tennis club for a friend's 40th birthday party.

Share your breakfast

I had coffee and a bowl of cold rolled oats with milk and dried cherries for breakfast this morning. Before I dug in, I snapped this picture and uploaded it to Kellogg's Share Your Breakfast. For every breakfast "shared," they'll provide breakfast to a hungry child.

Just snap a picture with your camera phone and text the word SHARE with the photo or a description of your breakfast to 21534.

I think it's a great cause marketing program with a compelling social media component. And I'm not just saying that because it came out of my agency, Leo Burnett. (I didn't work on it personally.)

Art by Z: Hummingbird

Parent-Child Night

One of the joys of our Montessori preschool is the annual Parent-Child night, when parents join their children for one hour in the evening. We attended 3 years of Parent-Child nights with Z, but this was our first time with A as our personal tour guide to the Montessori materials. We watched her methodically clean a mirror, pour tiny beans into tiny cups and assemble the binomial cube. She carefully cut paper along the lines and showcased her proficiency with "number work." We'd arranged to have our 13 year old neighbor babysit for Z while we were out, but in a stroke of luck, she called in sick just as one of Z's classmates called to invite her over for what turned out to be an evening playdate.

Small, small tragedies

It's been an expensive week.

Wednesday night I came home from roller derby practice and forgot to close the garage door. Our garage is not attached to our house, but I'm forever nagging Josh to close the door because bike thefts are rampant in Oak Park. This time it was I who forgot to double-check, and by Thursday morning our GPS and Josh's electric guitar, which he'd uncharacteristically left in the back seat, were gone. (Our bikes were still there.) Loss: approximately $1400.

Friday morning I tried to make a piece of toast for breakfast and discovered our 13 year old toaster oven wouldn't toast. Friday evening Josh heated it up to make chicken nuggets for the kids and the damn thing caught fire. Loss: approximately $25, although we're spending more than that to get the smaller version of the fancy toaster oven that Whitney and Cook's Illustrated recommended.

Then Sunday morning we were gathering in the kitchen for breakfast. As Josh made coffee and I opened a package of bacon, A was dancing in a circle with a Cinderella board book in her hand. She spun, let go of the book and sent it crashing through one of our kitchen windows, shattering it. Loss: we're getting an estimate tomorrow, but I'm guessing not cheap.

While I can't help but whine a bit about this week's almost comic series of misfortunes (there are advantages to having a personal blog), my complaints are being kept in check by the disaster in Japan. A broken window, a broken toaster oven--even a missing GPS unit--these are minor inconveniences compared to the mounting tragedies facing the Japanese people. I thank G-d for the comforts and conveniences I'm enjoying while their nation faces the triple threat of earthquakes, tsunamis and nuclear radiation. Scary, scary stuff that's so much harder to watch now that I'm a parent.

It's off topic, but while you're writing your check to the earthquake relief agency of your choice, would you also consider sponsoring me in the American Cancer Society Walk and Roll? I'm committed to roller skating 10 miles with Derby Lite and I'm raising money in honor of my late grandfathers, Robert Silverman and Hollis Limprecht. If 15 people donate, I promise to post a photo of myself in full derby regalia.

A portrait of my young artist

Now 3 1/2, A is showing an incredible aptitude for most everything she's introduced to (sleeping until 6am is still a work in progress). She's thriving at Montessori school, learning the continents, memorizing songs and manipulating the practical life and sensorial materials in the classroom. She advanced into level 2 at swimming lessons in a single session and got top marks on her gymnastics report card.

But what impresses Josh and I the most about our second born is her blossoming artistic ability. From the scribbles and circles she was drawing just 6 months ago have emerged people and animals with recognizable heads, faces, hair, bodies and limbs. She's even adding necklaces, earrings and shoes to her princesses and sisters. And she's prolific; we're getting 5-10 pieces of self-directed, self-created art a day. She sits down at the kids table, helps herself to markers and paper and draws. And draws. And draws.


She asked me to show her how to draw a spider the other day, and then spent the next 30 minutes hunched over, drawing 10 of them, including a "mommy and baby spider," a "grandpa spider" with a beard/wrinkles, and spiders of various colors and sizes. She cut them all out into roughly evenly sized pages and asked me to staple them into a book. Then she wrote "captions" opposite each page consisting of clusters of the capital letters she feels comfortable writing: N, O, W, H and M.

It's getting increasingly tempting to hang onto her little illustrations, but I remain a ruthless recycler, snapping a pic and burying deep in the bin every last masterpiece.

It's 32 degrees and sleeting: time to plan for summer camp!

The lottery for Oak Park Park District Summer Camps is Thursday, March 10th at noon. They supposedly send out their brochures the first week in March, leaving families a hair over one week to plan their children's summers. In actuality, we received the booklet on Friday and many of our friends haven't gotten it yet (although you can view it online in PDF form).

In preparation for registration, I printed out information about every camp under consideration for this summer, from the aforementioned park district day camps to sleepaway and local Jewish camps to arts camps, zoo camps, swimming camps and special learning enrichment camps. I sent our friends a link to a Google Docs spreadsheet where they could share their camp choices and set up my own personal planning camp at the dining room table with a pencil, blank calendar and checkbook in hand.

It's a dance, figuring out our summer plans. I have to factor in Z's interests, A's comfort level and nap schedule, our vacation plans and Josh's tolerance for driving all over the place. I ended up programming most weeks to my satisfaction and Josh's approval, giving Z 2 weeks of swimming lessons, 2-3 weeks at sports camp, 1-2 at a general day camp, 2 weeks at an eco-explorers camp and 2 weeks of art camp. There are a lot fewer options for the 3-turning-4-year old set, so A will spend most of the summer at her Montessori school's summer program. She will, however, get a taste of day camp and a week at art camp with her sister.

I can't imagine how frustrated I'd feel if I wasn't tuned into the summer camp early registration craze--if all these deadlines somehow slipped by me. Now I just need to set my calendar to remind me to register the minute swimming lesson registration goes live--two years ago Huskies filled its most desirable swimming sessions in the first 2 hours.


 Fellow Oak Parkers, while you're registering for summer camps, don't forget to buy your polar bear pool pass and sign up for the Spring sports lotteries--Z's hoping to play soccer!

Lady Gaga, Virgin Mobile and me

Lady Gaga fans practicing their poses outside the Virgin booth

Thanks to a full time job and children who don't understand the allure of sleeping in after Mommy's had a late night, I don't go to as many concerts as you might expect of the wife of a rock critic.

But hell would freeze over before I'd turn down the opportunity to see Lady Gaga live. You can get Josh's professional opinion of the show from his Time Out Chicago review, but suffice it to say she delivered exactly the spectacle I expected. In fact, she went way beyond mere spectacle: she's not just outrageous costumes, hot gay dancers and glitter. The Lady seemed so down-to-earth—so committed forging a meaningful connection with her Chicago fans and making all her "little monsters" feel loved and free to fly their freak flag high.

And I think I deserve an honorary freak flag for being one of the only concert-goers still wearing the same outfit I'd worn to work. Only the cute Boden dress, bright purple tights and green mary janes that had garnered so many compliments back at the office looked positively tame lame next to the costumes surrounding me. Men and women paraded around the concourse dressed like every possible incarnation of the Lady, as 1980s flashbacks (think early Madonna), and as a cavalcade of Pride Parade and burlesque dancers.

Since I never quite take off my marketing hat, I have to salute the sponsor, Virgin Mobile, for its savvy on-site activation of their tour sponsorship. From a photo booth in the lobby to a mid-show call to a fan in the stands from Lady Gaga to the posting of text messages on the jumbotrons to a donation to the performer's favorite charity (LGBT homeless youth), they managed to be ubiquitous without being distracting.

Kid art

Collage Z brought home from 1st grade

Owl done by Z while I was at derby practice

Jellyfish by A, inspired by Z's research project

I have moxie

There's really nothing more flattering than hearing you've inspired someone else. A local Chicago gal named Amanda just started a blog called She Has Moxie to bring attention to working women who "combine passions that don't normally go together, create their own path, rise above doubt, employ themselves and lead others, or do non-traditional work for women."

Check out her interview with me.

Grow-your-own babysitter

This is not our babysitter

Between my mom friends in Oak Park, online and at work, I hear a lot about the stress of finding, retaining--and occasionally firing--babysitters.

We've been lucky. We've found teenage babysitters through friends and neighbors, recruited some sitters using SitterCity and ran through 3 out of 4 of our family doctor's kids. Recently I was intrigued by the (sponsored) posts my blog friends Caitlin and Sara were writing about the high-end sitter placement firm K. Grace Childcare, but I was too intimidated to enter to win a free placement.

And honestly, I'm not desperate. Our girls are pretty much angels for babysitters, so we've never had any trouble keeping them coming back. They're also old enough and articulate enough to tell us what goes on while we're out of the house. Which means we don't have to worry about a baby being left alone in front of the boob tube while the sitter spends all evening chatting on the phone (or worse).

But it gets better. We're also growing our own babysitters. We have two mother's parent's helpers who come by weekly to help out for 2 hours. The 11 year old keeps Z and A happily occupied with crafts on Wednesday afternoons, freeing Josh up to write or accomplish a quick errand, and a 13 year old comes on weekends. And since the older girl got a mobile phone and permission to babysit "for real" when she officially became a teenager, so we no longer feel obligated to stick around the house when she comes over.

There are so many great benefits to hiring a mother's helper.
They're young enough to remember how to play (and enjoy it). By the time they're old enough to sit, they'll be familiar with your child and his or her routines. Younger teens don't have the social life of older teens, so they're more likely to be available and happy to sit. In general, I've found they're really respectful of you as a parent and your wishes--even if they sometimes forget little details like cleaning up the toys before moving on.

Financially, an eager, fun young teen is a bargain. Less experience commands less money. We pay our mother's helpers $3 an hour when we're home with them and $5-7 an hour if we're out of the house but nearby. And best of all, unlike high school seniors, newlywed preschool teachers and college students, they'll be around and in my children's lives a good, long time. 

Saturday at the zoo

It was sunny but chilly when we hit the Brookfield Zoo with my mom and her husband, Rick. We were pushing a new stroller (thanks to a gift certificate given to me by Gilt Groupe!) and we got to see the awesome dolphin show (a first for me!), primates and big cats.

No trip to the zoo is complete without a stop in the Hamill area for self-styled warpaint, guinea pig petting and tropical plant spritzing.

And guess who's getting her 6th visit from the tooth fairy tonight?

Seen in New Orleans

What can you do between 9:30am and 3pm on a Monday in New Orleans? My two co-workers and I started with the touristy-but-worth it Jazz Brunch at the Court of Two Sisters in the French Quarter. Highlights included the buttermilk biscuits, blue cheese potato salad, cajun sausage and pecan pie. Sunshine on my back, coffee in my cup and a live jazz trio pretty much sealed the deal.

From there we walked back to Canal Street and hopped on the St. Charles streetcar. We rode it west a couple of miles before hopping off and walking south to Magazine Street, where we moseyed through fashion boutiques, shoe stores and art galleries (there are also a ton of restaurants). I picked up clever t-shirts for the girls from Storyville.

Unable to find an eastbound Magazine Street bus, we hailed a taxi and drove to Cafe Du Monde, famous for its chicory-based cafe au lait and beignets. The service was more brusque that I remember from my trip there 7 years ago, but the powdered sugar-laden beignets were just as delicious.

How about a Jennifer Aniston portrait in oil?

After dusting off off our clothes, we wandered around the French Quarter, taking in the tattooed, meth-head palm readers, the ubiquitous street bands and shoeshine stands, the painters and caricature artists and scam artists and horse-drawn carriage guides all hollering and bargaining and "where you from?"-ing and generally trying to make a buck.

And the local color wasn't all--the tourists were a sight to behold as well. Check out this lady in red, who we determined was getting paid for her "fantasy day" (her words) with a pudgy white guy.

Now I'm the "experienced mom"

Once upon a time, I was a new mom too

This post was inspired by Teresa Strasser's hilarious and profane tell-it-like-it-is pregnancy and childbirth memoir Exploiting My Baby, which I read as part of the From Left to Write Book Club.


Six years ago, Z was 3 months old and I was heading back to work. I'd spent weeks nursing her through DVD-watching marathons of Gilmore Girls and The O.C., and while I was nervous about leaving her two days a week at our neighbor's home daycare, I was even more freaked out about those other three workdays, when my child was going to be cared for by Josh--proud parent, but utterly inexperienced when it came to caring for babies and children.

Our next-door neighbor Sharon was my (and Josh's) go-to gal when it came to parenting advice. I admired her children's collection of attractive wooden toys and knew I could count on her to always have Infant Tylenol (and Motrin!) in her medicine cabinet. Heck, "going potty at Sharon's house" was a major incentive when it came to toilet training.

Now Sharon's moved up the street to a bigger, better house (and replaced most of those wooden toys with sports gear, a Wii and a Dish subscription) and our elderly neighbor to the south passed on. Two new couples moved in on either side of us in the last year and both are expecting babies in the next month or so. I don't know if they'll look to me as the "experienced mom" next door, but if they do, I'd share what worked for me. It's not the same as advice, because I don't assume what's right for our family is some kind of gold standard.

1. Swaddle for the first month, but don't force it if your baby hates it. Z loved a tight swaddle and A wanted her arms free from the moment she was born.
2. Try to get your baby to accept a pacifier. Or you may become the pacifier.
3. Give breastfeeding a shot. I found it easy and convenient and snuggly as all hell. And I loved having an extra 500 calories in my diet. I breastfed exclusively for about 6 months and then supplemented with formula for another 6-8. There's no shame in using formula. Pumping at work does get old and since no one was giving out gold medals for breastfeeding, I took the path of less resistance.
4. Read Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child and follow Dr. Weissbluth's advice. The ability to sleep is a skill you need to teach your child. Don't believe the crazies who say you'll damage your 6 month old if you let him cry it out.
5. Wear your baby. I loved the wrap-style carriers for infants and the Ergo for slightly older babies.
6. But get a stroller too. If you've got the cash, start with a snap-and-go style stroller for your infant car seat and graduate to a well-made umbrella stroller. Get a used jogger or all-terrain stroller if you encounter a lot of rough roads or paths.
7. Don't go crazy with the baby equipment, but be sure to get a bouncy chair, an infant car seat, a high chair or booster seat and a Britax convertible car seat. Hit up yard sales, consignment sales and parents with kids a year or two older than yours for craptastic plastic toys, pack n plays, exersaucers and the rest.
8. Go out to eat and take your infant with you. You won't be enjoying your meals out in 5 or 6 months, I promise you. And travel while your baby is still young. Moms get nervous about taking their new babies on a plane, but as long as you've got a boob and/or a bottle, she'll be happy (and fly free!). It's one year olds who are holy terrors in flight.
9. Make friends. Having a baby is your free pass to making new friends. Just as my six year old makes friends with kids for any reason ("Hey, you like Harry Potter and I like Harry Potter--let's be friends!"), so do moms ("You've got a 2 month old and I've got a 3 month old--let's hang out with our tits out!").
10. Vaccinate. The data is in. The scaremongers were at best ill-informed and at worst committing fraud.

Dinner at Alinea

On cedar: sweet potato with bourbon, pecans, jalapeno cotton candy

This is a guest post by Josh. He wanted one thing and one thing only for his birthday: the chance to dine at Alinea. This is his report.

Diners at Alinea are rewarded with a copy of that night’s menu, and it is pushing midnight when you finally see in words what you just ate and found indescribable. And indeed, the items on the menu only partially capture the magic of the dining experience. But the meal doesn’t end with the symbolic punctuation-mark memento of the four-hour, 23-course, ungodly expensive meal at what many consider the best restaurant in America and one of the best in the world as well. No, the final part of the Alinea dining experience is the inevitable blog debriefing trying to describe the Alinea dining experience.

Which I won’t do (and probably couldn’t do, either). I will say it was a dreamlike evening, probably the closest an adult can come to the escape, childlike whimsy and wonder of, say, Disney World, albeit several decades removed. And those extra years past youth really do make a difference, since you can actually appreciate the time, skill and expense that went into creating such a fascinating, at times overwhelming meal. In fact, were it not for the price (which, it should be said for point of reverence, is about the cost of our particular family of four descending on the Magic Kingdom for a disposable couple of days, considerably less once you factor in food, souvenirs and flight as well as a place to stay, not to mention the potential degradation of your soul – and Disney doesn’t come with the option of wine pairings, though maybe it should), I’d easily recommend that everyone give it a shot.

Still, I left Alinea with mixed emotions (no doubt heightened by a hungover morning after, when the last thing on my mind was food of any stripe). The meal (a lavish birthday gift, and with good friends, I should add) was truly one of the best of my life, maybe the best once you factor in all the incidentals. I left awed by the restaurant’s attention to detail, its depth of knowledge, its near-inability to be stumped by my increasingly pointed, specific questions about the stemware or the custom-designed sci-fi utensils. Every single person, from the server to the guy who escorted me to the bathroom, appeared prepared for any query and every contingency. Even Chef Grant Achatz quietly explained why dessert does not afford him the culinary freedom the rest of the meal does as he and another team member readied out a totally indulgent dessert by draping the table in a silicone mat and spreading chocolate, blueberries, peanut sauce and other goodies around a steaming block of chocolate mousse that had been frozen in liquid nitrogen.

And yet, I was troubled by the decadence of the evening, the sheer hedonism of sharing in such an almost supernatural meal that felt akin to spending a lot of money on a work of art and then eating it. What a luxury. What opulence. But what bittersweet feelings basking in the glories of the Greatest Chef in the World, knowing not only that I’m not likely to ever do it again, but that most people will never be so lucky as to do it a first time. I feel fortunate, and I’m glad I went, but like the best dreams – both the good ones and the bad ones - I’m left vaguely haunted by its afterglow. 

Colorless halibut with black pepper, vanilla, lemon and coffee

So what did I think? It was certainly one of the most memorable meals--even experiences--of my life, but I'm still trying to get over the sticker shock. If I was to do it over again, I'd skip the wine pairings and focus my taste buds exclusively on the food. This would cut the bill almost in half and have the added benefit of my not being drunk and queasy by the end of the evening. I also wish Alinea still offered a more abbreviated tasting as I as so full and overwhelmed by richness that I couldn't enjoy the last 3 or 4 dishes. That said, I can't wait for Next.

Photoshoot on a college campus

Tulane University made a beautiful backdrop for a photoshoot yesterday. The New Orleans university offers a mix of Gothic and contemporary architecture, enormous trees, stone benches...and even features waterfalls inside the brand-spanking new student union.

We shot images all morning, breaked for a late lunch and then people-watched for a while. We saw a student channeling Alex Keaton in a pink button down shirt tucked into belted khaki shorts who was alternately working at an outdoor table on his laptop and pacing the grass next to the intermural softball players with his cell phone pressed to his ear.

Then there were the two guys giving a third a hard time about a hickey.

"Hey, what happened to your neck? You fall down the stairs or something?"
"Yeah, I ran into a doorknob."
"Uh-huh."
"It felt pretty good when it happened."
"Yeah, I bet it did."

As we walked off campus to our rental car (parked far away thanks to the Rock N Roll marathon that was also yesterday), the strap on one of my Dansko mary janes popped off. This was an especially bad stroke of luck given that the boots I was wearing on the way to New Orleans became non-functional at airport security when the zipper broke. Now completely shoeless, I had my colleagues drop me off in an area I thought might have boutiques.

It didn't, so I hobbled down to the closest shopping center. No Payless or Aerosoles outlet in this mall. No, we're talking Saks 5th Avenue and Gucci. Desperate, I scanned the directory for something in my price range and found Banana Republic. Of the 15 pairs of shoes they had on display, two were on sale and one was in my size.

I am now the proud owner of a pair of adorable black ankle boots with 3 inch heels. Perfect for a day of sightseeing around New Orleans!

Then last night we headed out to dinner with our clients at Luke, a "snout to tail" gastropub much like Publican. Where we learn none of our clients eat oysters, mussels or "heavy food," and one will only eat "vegetarian fare, chicken off the bone, or light, white fish." I thought the waiter was going to kill us.

Today it's just me and two of my co-workers in NOLA. We're going to have brunch at The Court of Two Sisters and do some shopping and sightseeing before our flight home late this afternoon.