Tuesday, May 11, 2010

Book Club

At Jo's tonight. Nice, quiet, makes you smile book.
But there was nothing nice and quiet about us tonight. Natalie and the hot dog. How much does a Kindle cost?  Change your life margarita with muddled cherries. The more than getting their money's worth Mexican flower cans.  The too old to moon with our pants off. 
Swingin' hips by the sudsy sink (sans the farm frau apron from Amsterdam), blast from the past 80's music blaring, Cinco de Mayo Paula Dean empanadas and the whole amazing Jo delectable food spread, the bad babysitter, but fun weekend lounging by the pool anyway, three upcoming ex-husband events, but the hair is looking fab, the let's try to clothe the Phoenix media in C-bi, Twitter, baby, lots of proms down, seven graduations to go,
Petite Ya Ya got into Sotheby's London (yay!), upcoming gun slinging Grand Canyon trip, toast to the summer, toast to Tuesday, he peed in the toilet! and the annual group shot. Circle of life PJ-clad Shana appeared after mommy had some adult beverages, hugs and kisses in the kitchen to the next generation, including braces off tomorrow Miss B, then we were off, swung by Temple Beth Israel before the clock struck midnight for our annual 5/11 Happy Birthday Boo Boo salute to our very own circle of life starter. The School of Essential Ingredients lesson - pay attention to what you put into your life, add one heaping spoonful of book club. Stir.


It's never about the book with this crowd, but...currently by the bed - Spooky Little Girl by used to be local writer, Laurie Notaro.

Also, just finished this one by Patti Smith, Just Kids

Here's a description - loved, loved, loved it.

It was the summer Coltrane died, the summer of love and riots, and the summer when a chance encounter in Brooklyn led two young people on a path of art, devotion, and initiation. Patti Smith would evolve as a poet and performer, and Robert Mapplethorpe would direct his highly provocative style toward photography. Bound in innocence and enthusiasm, they traversed the city from Coney Island to Forty-second Street, and eventually to the celebrated round table of Max's Kansas City, where the Andy Warhol contingent held court. In 1969, the pair set up camp at the Hotel Chelsea and soon entered a community of the famous and infamous—the influential artists of the day and the colorful fringe. It was a time of heightened awareness, when the worlds of poetry, rock and roll, art, and sexual politics were colliding and exploding. In this milieu, two kids made a pact to take care of each other. Scrappy, romantic, committed to create, and fueled by their mutual dreams and drives, they would prod and provide for one another during the hungry years. Just Kids begins as a love story and ends as an elegy. It serves as a salute to New York City during the late sixties and seventies and to its rich and poor, its hustlers and hellions. A true fable, it is a portrait of two young artists' ascent, a prelude to fame

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