This Old School Tie is Silk
Janet was invited to a reunion this weekend - to be held at the United Nations headquarters. Her old law firm rented the
Delegates Dining Room for their annual get-the-ol'-gang-back-together-(and-shmooze-them-for-business) bash. And we're too new in town to turn our noses up at a chance to network in swish surroundings.
The dining room can't be as exclusive as it sounds since it has a Zagat rating. In fact it's open to the public - or any public who's willing to take off their belts and go through a metal detector to reach their meal. It does have a very nice view of the East River. We watched seaplanes landing from the terrace. Janet was certain she wouldn't know a soul, since it has been over ten years since she was a member of the firm. I counted five people she knew, only one of whom was a wild coincidence.
Janet, lady and adroit business person that she is, knows how to handle a cocktail party like this. Get a drink, select a few of the best
hors d'ouevres, talk to the interesting people, then get out. I on the other hand clearly have yet to shake off the dust of the prairies, because when I'm let loose near a top-notch buffet like this, I can't see the point of leaving until after (the second) dessert. It just about killed me to leave the
petit fours, and the table piled high with
marons glacés in three colours. We left the free grub with time to make our nearby restaurant reservation - though where the logic is in that I couldn't tell you.
Melting Pot Party
We spent the weekend back in T.O., seeing friends and rellies, but the impetus was an engagement party of a good friend. The groom is of Russian Jewish extraction and his family organized the do. One could scarcely believe the food: piles and piles of everything imaginable: crab and lobster, sushi, oysters, salmon, caviar, liver paté, cold cuts, stewed peppers, duck, avocados – and that was before the hot food arrived. Our plates were teetering on the edge of the table to make room for all the dishes. At one point a platter was passed and a whole trout was discovered beneath it that had been sitting right in front of us for an hour, undiscovered.
Then the band started playing: loud, glitzy Russian pop music, or lounge standards with a Russian twist. Flashing lights, tight pants and shiny shirts, and the sound system cranked to the point of distortion. Lots of laughter and toasts and dancing.
When we left an older Russian woman asked how we enjoyed it. She said that they do it to show what they are, only she phrased it more like how they became that way. Interesting to look at the occasion as a history lesson. Obviously the newest chapter, their recent adoption of the new world, is reflected too. The wedding ceremonies of every culture tell a story of unique tastes, values and history, and this one is warm and genuine and quite overwhelming.
Little Urbanites
If there's one thing you don't expect to discover on the 25
th floor of a downtown apartment block it's ants. Certainly not when we have a new cleaning lady. But there they were, swarming the cat dish, and unnerving the cat (who did nothing about them, 10,000 times larger carnivore that she is).
The little creatures were barely diminished by my dogged efforts to sponge them up and wash them down the drain. And that meant there was no concealing them from sweet Janet, whose love of insects is akin to Scipio's love of Carthage. She learned from dubious sources that ants are deterred by pepper and had seasoned the baseboards before I could get home on Friday. Now we are kept awake by high-pitched sneezes coming from the walls.
The pepper being ineffective, I am resorting to chemical warfare. I've been assured that insecticide will not harm the cat, so have dosed the baseboards with something you wouldn't want on a salad. The three-second rule has officially been repealed in our abode.
