B-I-N-G-O, Bingo Was NOT Our Name-O

So today was what cruise lines like to call a “fun day at sea”. And for me, it is fun. Mostly because I have to relax – there’s nowhere to go and nowhere I need to be. I can sit down (something I don’t do often enough) and just relax with a nice cocktail in hand. (I’ve already had two and it’s not even dinner time yet.)

There are always activities to be found throughout the ship, especially on a day at sea, but I had only one activity on my mind. BINGO. When the time came, I was ready, willing AND able, with my mom at my side. As we purchased our tickets, the $20,000 grand prize seemed like a real possibility (or so we hoped). Also there were two separate couples we had met over the past couple of days, who were all from Texas. I do love my Texans. The six of us laid out our boards, eager to do battle against the other passengers and each other. People get seriously competitive at these games once it comes down to the final round and the $20,000 grand prize is at stake. One person bellowed “Can you go slower” at the emcee while another yelled, “Can you go faster?” Someone else (who later became my fellow NY bestie) shouted, “Can you be serious?” Jeez, tough crowd. Everyone was clearly keen to get their paws on that 20,000 bucks, myself included. But alas, it was not meant to be. Twelve game cards between my mom and I, and not ONE of them was a winner. Our companions didn’t fare any better, nor did any of the other players. At least my mom won a beach towel. I guess we’ll have to see what happens at the next day at sea. Maybe the $20,000 prize will be doubled and I can really hit the jackpot!

Other than doing a crossword puzzle together (and cheating terribly), my mom and I did  a whole lot of nothing today, which suits the both of us just fine. Despite our lack of activity, we still managed to walk two miles according to the Health app in our iPhones. I don’t see how that’s possible, but at least it makes me feel better about skipping my workout today. The highlight of the day was seeing dolphins leaping out of the water off the side of the ship. Which side, I do not know. I am a nautical nimwit. Who knew there were dolphins out here? I sure didn’t. I instantly felt shame for mercilessly laughing at my mom yesterday when she asked two people from Australia where all the dolphins were. A mother always knows, after all, even when it comes to the location of mammals.

Tonight the dress code is apparently “Evening Chic”. Is this some new level of fashion that was created by cruise ships to mess with our heads and make us wonder if we are over OR under dressed? I feel like it’s the first day of elementary school and I don’t want to be ridiculed by wearing the wrong thing to class. Here’s what they say about it in the daily pamphlet that’s left in our room each morning: “While dressier than Smart Casual, Evening Chic is intended to be less dressy than Formal Attire.” What the hell does that mean? I’m just gonna throw on a black dress and call it a day… or evening, as the case may be.

And now there’s nothing left to do except admire the sunset from my lounge chair on my beautiful balcony. I can think of worse ways to end my day!

One If By Land, Two If By Sea

That pretty much sums up my mom’s feelings on hiking. Meaning, it ain’t happening. Ever. But it’s okay. I hiked Cinque Terre in the ‘90s and the thought of taking a break from strenuous activity and seeing these colorful villages by sea appealed to even me. (Especially since I fell through a hidden hole and dropped six feet during my original hike.) Sometimes you just need to sit back and enjoy the ride… know what I mean?

The day was almost a disaster. We woke to discover our excursion with an outside company to these lovely lands had been canceled at the last minute. We rushed to the shore excursion desk, barely out of the shower, and luckily our cruise line had a similar tour leaving, like, IMMEDIATELY. It was time to “throw my ta-ta’s in a bra” and jump on the bus before it left without us!

On the ride to this magnificent place we passed Carrara, known for it’s “marble mountains” and yes, it’s REAL marble used to build, among other things, the Pantheon in Rome. We first stopped in Porto Venere, which is not part of Cinque Terre, but it has the best pesto sauce I’ve ever tasted. Apparently this region of Italy is where pesto comes from. I just wanted to take a bath in it. Yum. It was a charming pit stop and before we left, my mom and I met an Italian couple who are getting married in Central Park of all places in October. They asked if I knew any restaurants to have dinner at after their ceremony. Is anyone the least bit curious if I recommended anywhere in particular? Hmmm. One thing is certain, I gave their adorable border collie a huge hug before heading off to our boat, bound for Cinque Terre.

Cinque Terre literally translates to “five lands”. It is part of the Italian Riviera and is absolutely glorious. I haven’t seen the French Riviera yet, but if it’s anything like this, then all I can say is “Ooo la la"! (Or should it be "Ay, dios mio"?) Hiking the five villages is one of my fondest memories of all my travels in Europe, so I was very excited for my mom to experience it too. Well, Cinque Terre was as beautiful as I remembered. Sadly, it’s gotten more touristy over the years. When I hiked through the villages, it was like this undiscovered gem for Americans like myself. In fact, Cinque Terre barely took up a paragraph in my Lonely Planet travel guide at the time, and it was pure luck that I found it. Now, information about the place is everywhere and thus, the crowds and tourist shops have moved in. Tourism can be such a blessing and a curse.

We met some lovely people throughout the day, though I could’ve done without the bald guy that seemed to be my very own “Where’s Waldo?” in all my photos. C'est la vie. My favorite people of the day were a couple from Texas. I do love my Texans! They are cattle ranchers and the husband is also a physicist. Mutually exclusive? Guess not. I also learned as a cattle rancher, you should never name your cows, and I’ll just leave it at that. (I'm sure you can imagine the reason behind that.)

On the way back to port, it was funny listening to some people on the bus talking about food, in accents reminiscent of Daphne Moon from "Frasier". Insert Manchester accent: “Is it chili hot or is it garlic hot, because I don’t like garlic hot.” Maybe it’s because I work in a restaurant, but hearing that made me giggle.

Dinner time is rapidly approaching so it’s time to get ready. And when it comes to MY food, I prefer garlic hot to chili hot, FYI. Bon appetite to you all!

When You’re In A Suite, You Have To Act Classy

So our 24 hours in Rome were delightful. We had a wonderful dinner last night where we met a mother/son duo from Verona (that’s Romeo & Juliet territory) sitting next to us who graciously offered me a taste of their spaghetti carbonara. (And yes, I happily accepted… it was delish.) Check out the photo of our generous dinner neighbors if you’re so inclined. Interesting thing about service in Italy… it can be non-existent. We had to find someone to pay our bill (as did several other diners) since our waiter was nowhere to be found and we would never dine and dash! My little server heart shattered in a million pieces at the lack of gracious hospitality. At least the food was good. Of course, no meal involving wine would be complete without me doing my famous “smile and fade”. Thank you, mom, for getting us in a cab home before I fell headfirst onto our table. Jet lag is real, people!

This morning, before departing for the ship, we wandered around Rome and visited the Bocca Della Verita. (Mouth of Truth). It’s a 2800 pound disc made famous by the Audrey Hepburn movie “Roman Holiday”. Myth says that if you stick your hand in its mouth and say something untruthful, your hand will be bitten off. Luckily my mom and I have the worst poker faces known to man and don’t fib. As my acting teacher always says, “Don’t lie. You’re just going to get caught.” (Thank you, Matt, for helping me keep my extremities attached to my body!)

Too soon it was time to depart for the ship, but we were eager with anticipation to see our home for the next 11 days. For those that don’t know, we placed a bid to be upgraded to a larger cabin. We were hoping for a balcony, but as a joke, I placed a bid on a suite, never dreaming it would ever come to fruition. Voila! Our bid was accepted and we were upgraded to a “Family Veranda Suite”. The cabin is enormous and our balcony could host quite a nice soirée. (Something to consider for our days at sea.)

But the thing we are discovering is when you are in a suite, you feel like a VIP. We had our own line at check-in, a separate dining room and closet/storage space that puts my apartment to shame. I don’t know if gals like us are fancy enough for this kind of treatment, but I will happily take the larger balcony to dry my bathing suits!

One thing that made me laugh… they are playing the film “Overboard” in our cabins. Is that not tempting fate? I plan on keeping my feet planted firmly on deck, I promise!

Bon voyage!

When In Rome... You Drink Prosecco, Duh!!!

Why yes, that IS a condom dispenser, but I'll get to that later. So here it is… the first official day of our annual mother/daughter getaway. Besides half of my suitcase being drenched by rainwater that may or may not be toxic, it was a nice beginning to our European adventure. We only have one day in Rome since we sail out on our cruise tomorrow, so we tried to revisit some of our favorite spots and fill in the blanks on things we missed out on last year. And as it turned out, we didn’t do anything new… YET. (There’s still tomorrow morning!)

I had to make a stop at the shoe store where I bought the most amazing wedge sandals last summer.  That said, finding the place took some detective work on my part (which amounted to calling my mom’s credit cards in advance of the trip to see what the heck the name of this store was). I held my iPhone while following the directions on my Maps app (and looking like a silly tourist in the process), and miraculously found my shoe store. This year, in case you’re interested, I found a lovely pair of blue wedge sandals I will probably wear to dinner tonight. Don’t you remember when you were a little kid and you couldn’t wait to wear the new pair of shoes your mom bought for you? Well, apparently nothing has changed. My mom bought my shoes and I’m still excited to wear them! (I know. Get a life.)

We had to make a pit stop at the glorious Trevi Fountain while we were out and about. When we told someone we were throwing coins in the fountain and wishing for “world peace”, the person laughed at us. Was that sarcasm, disbelief, or a combination of both? Does it even matter? I think I need some more prosecco while I ruminate.

We also saw Piazza Navona, Castle San Angelo, the interior of the dome of the Pantheon (biggest self-supporting dome in the world apparently) and were accosted by someone trying to sell us a selfie stick. One guess as to whether you think I purchased one or not :) On the way back to our B&B, I couldn't help snapping that photo of the condom machine. It was attached to the side of a building and I remembered seeing it last year. Okay, I admit I went looking for the condom machine to make sure it was still there. I’m certainly glad to know safe sex is important worldwide!

We are so bleary eyed from our travels that it’s hard to express what I’m feeling at the moment. But if I had to put it in one word, it would be JOY. It’s good to be back in Rome. And at the same bed and breakfast with the amazing rooftop from last summer. Sigh, the views of the city up here are incredible. Check out the photos and see for yourself.

Now it’s time to get ready for dinner. Anyone for pasta? Yes, please!

Buona notte!

It Doesn’t Matter Whether You Win Or Lose, It’s How You Play The Game

Does anyone actually believe that? I do… most of the time. When my acting teacher once said in class how actors and athletes were similar, I thought to myself “Watcha talkin’ about, Matt?” I mean, I DO love a good sports film, but seriously? He proceeded to say that actors love watching athletes who battle, and against all odds, emerge victorious. So true. Nothing makes me blubber like a baby more than when the team no one believed in… the team everyone said was a bunch of losers… the team everyone mocked and said was on the road to nowheresville triumphs over all obstacles. It’s no different for me with real-life sporting events. When I recently watched the Minnesota Vikings’ Stefan Diggs score a touchdown in the last ten seconds of the playoff game against the Saints, I wept like a little school girl. For days after, I watched those final moments over and over on YouTube, and I cried every single time. Didn’t see it? Feel free to watch it here and tell me if you don’t get a tad emotional: https://youtu.be/NwqAeMlsYmU  My teacher was right. Actors relate to the struggle. Just like athletes, actors want to be heroes. We want to come out victorious, despite all the rejections and obstacles we face on a daily basis. And if Stefan Diggs can do that in TEN SECONDS, it means there’s hope for the rest of us too. But what about that quote? Does it NOT matter if you win or lose?

I think back to the ABC Wide World of Sports slogan said so beautifully by Jim McKay: “The thrill of victory; the agony of defeat.” Certainly the Vikings ultimate loss to the Eagles in their final playoff game reminds me of agony… a painful, slow, torturing agony. But the agony of defeat wasn’t because they lost the game. It was that they never even PLAYED the game, in my humble opinion. Another famous quote “You gotta be in it, to win it” comes to mind. The Vikings weren’t in it at all. They left their warrior aka “vikings” spirit in the locker room. It didn’t matter that they lost the game when the clock ran out of time. They had already lost by not giving it everything they got. I say this with all due respect to the Vikings. I love the team and I get that we ALL have our off days. I know I’ve had auditions where I felt my performance was sub-par. The ones where the casting person says “Thanks for stopping by,” as if we just had a cup of tea, instead of engaging in a battle where my ego was left shattered in pieces in the audition room. So it’s not a question of whether you’re off on a given day. It’s KNOWING you’re off, and choosing what you do with that knowledge. As my wise teacher says, “When you’re OFF, don’t beat yourself up for it. Just get back ON.” Amen. (The Vikings will have to wait until next season to get back ON.)

       Speaking of winning versus losing, what about this year’s Super Bowl? What a game! My dad used to say he hated the Super Bowl because it was the most boring game of the year. One game determined EVERYTHING and he felt that the players were too cautious because they didn’t want to do anything that would possibly cost their team the victory. Not this year. I have never been on the edge of my seat for a Super Bowl as much as this one. It could have gone either way… both teams were playing their hearts out and both were certainly “in it to win it”. They fought hard, and kept fighting hard until the very end, when the Eagles ultimately came out on top. But what about that? The Eagles technically won, but as far as I’m concerned, they were both winners. (And that’s hard for me to say given that my parents are both from the Bronx and I don’t give props to Boston teams easily.) As long as you’re playing as hard as you can, to the best of your abilities, you’re winning on some level. As disappointing as it is when I don’t get that role I really wanted, as long as I know I did my best and there was nothing else I could’ve done, I feel powerful and comforted.

      On the other hand, I’m not advocating eliminating the notion of winning or losing. I laughed when a friend told me they give out trophies to all kids during competitions – win or lose. I get it to a degree, because it supports the notion of “it’s how you play the game”. But they’re forgetting the first part “it doesn’t matter whether you win or lose,” which clearly recognizes a winner versus a loser and the need to embrace whichever side you end up on.  There IS a winner and a loser, and acknowledging that and learning from it, is what makes us go out and try harder next time. Perhaps on a given day you may not “win” that role you so desperately wanted or be the victor in the championship game, but fighting is cumulative. The more you put up a good fight, the more the odds increase that you will win the next time. “The strongest people aren’t always the people who win, but the people who don’t give up when they lose.” Props to Ashley Hodgeson for those brilliant words of wisdom. Keep fighting everyone… win or lose!

Desserts Are Meant To Be Savored, Not Shared

            Do I sound like a brat? Good. When it comes to desserts, that’s exactly who I wanna be. I know I’ve mentioned before that I simply don’t understand people who say, “I’m not really into sweets.” It’s like nails on a blackboard to my ears. (These people contort their faces in a pretentious kind of way when they utter these dreadful words, as if they’re soooo much better than me for not possessing a sweet tooth.) What part of the gene pool did these folks come out of, because I’m ready to eradicate it right now!  Or perhaps they are all in denial, and need to visit their local psychiatrist. I admittedly judge people who make such statements out loud. (Keep it to yourselves, you haters!) In my opinion, dessert is what puts the finishing touch on any great meal. It is the quintessential “cherry on top”… literally. So when something is THAT good, why on earth would you want to share it with someone else?

            Did you say you don’t wanna get fat and that’s why you skip dessert? Okay, even a dessert hoarder like me must acknowledge the validity of that response. Now more than ever, people are hyper aware of their appearances. Between social media and all the devices we have (selfie sticks, selfie ring lights, tripods, etc.) to help capture images of ourselves to then post on social media, it’s obvious we’re always checking one another out, whether online or in person. One must always look their “Sunday best”. So of course no one wants to eat that piece of Mississippi Mud Pie at the Cheesecake Factory and feel like a big old fattie on camera, do they? Well… I kind of do. I know I’ve been working on better eating habits, but a gal’s gotta treat herself every once in a while, right?

            And that’s the point. If I decide I AM going to treat myself, why on earth would I want to let anyone else have even ONE bite of MY Godiva Chocolate Brownie Sundae? (I’m sounding like a terrible two again aren’t I?) As a hospitality worker, I was always trained to put down spoons for everyone at the table when someone orders dessert—even if it’s one person at a table of ten. The other nine people simultaneously bemoan, “Oh, I’m so full, I can’t eat another bite!” An evil laugh plays in my head as I listen to these LIARS. Because the minute the dessert hits the table, the poor person that actually ordered it barely gets to pick up his spoon before the other nine people have completely devoured it. That’s what I call a “closet dessert lover”… a person who pretends they’re not interested in dessert until they see it right in front of them. My motto is: “There’s an invisible compartment in your stomach that is available for dessert at all times.” And it’s TRUE. Say that to a table, and watch how many people order dessert!

            All that said, nothing irks me more than when I go to a restaurant and order dessert, only to watch the server putting spoons down for everyone at the table. Hello??? Did I say I was SHARING my dessert? I was at the Cheesecake Factory when a server did this to me. The moment my dessert was put down in front of me, it was like everything went into slow motion. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my sister-in-law gradually reach for her spoon as my brother said in that warped-half-speed-voice, “Don’t do that, hon! She’s not sharing.” And just like that, time went back to normal speed. Thank you, bro! I’m NOT.

            I will admit, there are times I share my dessert. Even a food lover like me doesn’t always have full capacity available in my invisible compartment for dessert. But it's MY choice. No one should ever expect me to offer a taste. And I promise, in return I will respect your right to privately relish your delightful goody. The bible says “Man does not live by bread alone,” nor should he live by a diet consisting of only Ho Hos and Ring Dings. Although on second thought, maybe if I COULD exist that way, I might be more willing to give everyone at the table a spoon. But when dessert is something I eat sporadically, I don’t feel like it needs to be a group endeavor. I know we’re taught as children to share, but when it comes to desserts, the pleasure is ALL MINE.

Nothing Like A Little Food Shopping To Make Me Want To Start A Food Fight!

                  Is it just me or do supermarkets make you want to howl like one of those babies in the shopping carts? Seriously, it’s awful. I’m usually the 555-TAKE-OUT girl, but it’s a New Year and although I rebuked New Year’s resolutions last week, I still feel that turning a new page is in order. Given my regimen of regular exercise and improved eating habits in 2017, I want to step it up a notch in 2018. What better way to do that than buy your own food… or so I thought. In hindsight, I may need to get another job and invest in Fresh Direct instead!

                  From the minute I walked in the door of Key Food, I was already annoyed. So many people… like, EVERYWHERE! And this wasn’t the day or even the day after the “big storm”. This was just a normal afternoon. Wherever I moved, someone was right there. It was like an obstacle course, as I narrowly avoided someone’s shopping cart or backpack from inadvertently hitting me. As I tried to select my vegetables for a salad, I’d bump into someone again who was trying to grab the same tomato as me. Back off, pal. That juicy beefsteak is MINE! And then I’m trying to concentrate on what else I need to buy while being disturbed by some guy talking about how he had to wait to get approved for something. Approved for what? A credit card? Or was it a brain transplant because hey, buddy, WE CAN ALL HEAR YOU ON THE PHONE! Maybe you don’t want to broadcast the details of your personal life in the middle of the produce section, which is a note to all of us—especially me—to be careful what you say in public. Our ears can hear you, whether we want to or not.

I think in horror if I had instead gone to the Trade Fair. Oh, Trade Fair. Never heard of it? We Queens residents know it well. There’s a special place in hell for the people that designed this food store. Their website claims to have a “giant selection of food and products”. I guess they’re so busy packing that giant selection into the store that they barely left room for shoppers to get down the compacted aisles. I feel like a mouse in one of those mazes as I make my way through the store, just hoping I’ll eventually find my way to the cashier (which is the human version of the piece of cheese the mouse so desperately wants). Speaking of the cashier, why do some of them act like they’re moving in slow motion instead of picking up the pace so we can escape from this torture chamber? Let’s move things along, everyone. Or better yet, install a self-service checkout!

                  And nothing seems to be organized in these places. In the Trade Fair, I’ll find cereal in one aisle and then wait! There’s another aisle that has “International Foods”. Oh, that’s where my Kashi Organic Island Vanilla whole wheat biscuits baked with sweet vanilla is hiding. Seriously??? Get it together guys. No, really. GET IT TOGETHER. All cereal should be grouped in ONE PLACE. It makes sense. But then, I’ve already proven that supermarkets don’t make sense. I mean, why does Cracker Barrel need to be put in a completely different area of the store than the other cheeses? Is it not classy enough to be with my BelGioioso American Grana Extra Aged Parmesan Cheese? (I guess that does sound a bit sexier than Cracker Barrel.) But still… can’t you keep the cheeses in the same place and let us shoppers decide which is the sexiest cheese to place in our shopping carts? Oh, the agony! But what can you expect from a store that puts kitty litter right next to the soap. That’s just gross.

                 

                  Seriously, my hat is off to all you cooks out there who brave these establishments in search of your items to make that glorious meal that I will happily eat when I come to your house with a bottle of wine in one hand and a dessert in the other. Keep shopping (and cooking) on my behalf. Lord knows I don’t like doing either. And yes I know what I just said about coming over your house for dinner with dessert in hand. It may be indulgent for someone who’s trying to focus on better eating habits, but a girl’s gotta treat herself every once in a while. Bon appetit!