Miguelina

You say you want a revolution? Here you go:

This is a brilliant idea and, like most ideas that have the potential to change the world, it wasn't mine. Dammit.

I was going to kick myself for not coming up with this first, but I decided to spread the word instead. I'll let The Elegantologist explain:

June 7th, 2008 will mark the 230th anniversary of Beau Brummell’s birth. I propose that the 4,000 - 6,000 readers I have mark the event with a day of celebration of personal style. Our mis-en-scene will be the world at large. 

Make it a point to gather several well-dressed friends (the more the merrier) and head for a local watering hole, museum, theatre or other public venue. Dress better than you have to. En mass, a statement will be made. Beauty will be in the eyes of the beholders and maybe, just maybe, someone will think it’s a movement. The news media will pick up on the sudden reëmergence of elegance. Strangers will be compelled to rethink the day’s shabby wardrobe choices. Long dormant manners will see the light of day. Heads will turn and polite smiles will be exchanged.

JUNE 7, 2008 - Mark your calendars. Have fun and be fabulous! I can't wait!

Someone's been watching too much Telemundo...

This takes me back to South Beach - specifically GrooveJet (or Liquid, same difference) circa 1997 and it makes me laugh because those guys? Were EVERYWHERE. All that's missing is the plastic cup of rum and coke.

(If you think this is funny, you should see me ordering food at a French restaurant. Let's just say I point and say "Si!". A lot. Turns out a semester of French isn't very helpful either.)

Estrogen overload

Last night.

Husband: "What are you doing?"

Me: "Watching an interview with the Sex and City girls."

Husband: "No, I mean on the computer."

Me: "Researching blue nail polish."

Husband: "Is that Oprah?"

Me: "Yes"

Husband: "I'm going to Home Depot."

Update: Relief

Thank you. Your words have meant so much.

I'm now at home - my parent's house. Everyone is well. My father was released from the hospital on Friday and now has a fancy pacemaker/defibrillator in his chest and is recovering very nicely.

(The wonders of medicine.)

I'll be spending time with my family the next few days, not doing much of anything. My husband's back in Boston with the two boys - this was the first time I've flown without a child in 3 years. It was relaxing, even in seat 20D waaaaay back in coach.

In much more interesting news, it looks like I'll get to meet the police officer that saved my dad's life. I don't know what I can say to him to fully convey how grateful I am to him. I'm considering getting his name tattooed across my forehead, but that may be a bit too much. We'll see.

Next project - enrolling in a CPR class. I'm serious. CPR is the new black. If I were to suddenly become a Miss America contestant, that would be my cause/platform: CPR. Learn it. Love it.

Heart. Broken.

My father's heart stopped beating last Tuesday night. He was at the gym and went into cardiac arrest - from what I understand, he stopped breathing. He had no pulse.

A police officer happened to be working out next to him. He immediately performed CPR and saved his life. The health club had a defibrillator and saved his life. Some kind soul called 911 and saved his life.

My father is a very lucky man. But his heart is broken, and so is mine.

Do me a favor: Learn CPR. Please. You never know when you'll save a life.