I could go on whining about my house, but I won’t. I will pretend I have done my morning yoga and have found an inner peace that allows me to have a glorious day beyond my usual state of agitation and frustration. This will last until I check Chase.com, receive a text from contractor Mitch, or calculate how much more interest I will have to pay on my loan because of the delays. Normally, I would be saying “#!&*#*!@%!!!” to myself be it not for this inner peace and, of course, my Zoloft prescription.
‘Tis the Christmas season and, as usual, New York City is at its most beautiful. If you want a treat, check out the windows at Bergdorf Goodman, they are fantastic. The tree in Rockefeller Center is as fabulous as ever and thanks to Ms. Astor or Ms. Lasker or one of the Park Avenue grand dames, Park Avenue’s center meridian is lined with illuminated trees. I better quit before I break out in Christmas carols—there’s only so much holiday cheer one can take.
Christmas at Brokeback Manor doesn’t quite have the same festive flavor of Manhattan. As of my last visit to the manor, there wasn’t a decoration in sight. Of course, it’s been a couple of weeks so maybe now the few houses there have donned some gay Christmas apparel (sorry couldn’t help it). I’ll be visiting this weekend and I’m hoping to see a little frost on my window panes, or for that matter, just a window pane would be nice. Happy holidays everybody!