Easy and Elegant Life

The Search for Everyday Elegance and the Art of Living Well.

The Poison Pen

I’m not feeling very elegant today.

The dog is throwing up (shots at the vet, poor guy), the children are covered in a thin film of mucus, the cars are covered in a heavier film of pollen, it’s hot and cloudy.

Flip-flops have begun to make their reappearance on pale and pasty feet pinned to paler and pastier legs.

I had to make a trip to the grocery to correct an error that gave me about $100 in free groceries and a refund of $95 in addition to them.

To top it all off, I’ve had to compose the second in a series of letters that my mother wishes to send to protest the appalling treatment my grandmother received during her recent heart surgery and recovery. (The staff at two facilities are very lucky that she was too weakened to get a shot off; she was determined that she would not go softly into that good night. Ah, we Greeks… She has since recovered. I do not suggest follow-up visits from either facility; although I doubt that they care enough to make the effort.)

Tonight’s lecture by Christopher Gardner should be interesting. As should tomorrow’s lectures by Nando Parrado and Branford Marsalis (who will also perform.) But summoning up the energy required to get to tonight will require a great deal of effort.

Still, I’ve got it much better than most, I know. No complaints.

But there are always days during which we feel less up to snuff. And it is on these days especially that we learn to cultivate our inner elegance — to squint and make the world a more delightful place. We owe it to those around us. Stiff upper lip. Chin up. Don’t let down the side. That’s the old (insert surname here) spirit!

So, what’s the Rx? A cuppa mint and green tea. Figure out tonight’s casually elegant ensemble. A little of the written word, some pretty pictures, and maybe a lot of pandora.com. Music hath charms, etc.

Back on Monday with lessons learned.

In the meantime, when all else fails there is always a cocktail.
This one is named after the guns that pounded away during WWI and was added to the menu at Harry’s New York Bar, Paris after the war to end all wars.
The French 75.
Pour into a shaker of ice:
Juice of half a lemon
2 dashes of simple syrup
2/3 oz. of gin.
Shake like the building’s under bombardment.
Pour into a champagne flute.
Top with champagne.
La Marsellaise

9 thoughts on “The Poison Pen

  1. Terribly sorry about your day. We’ve all been there. I, normally, drag my oversized leather chair out the backdoor onto the patio, set up a table next to myself with a bucket of ice, a glass, a bottle of Bombay Saphire and a bottle of tonic water (substitute Bourbon during the cold months). I’ll even go so far as to move a floor lamp outside as to be able to read. Light an Ashton Maduro churchill and watch my son tear across the lawn. Seems to melt away a few of the problems, at least. Enjoy your weekend, my good sir. Be ready to attack them again next week.

  2. Oh, I’m sorry. Your plan is a good one, though. Love Pandora–I usually use either Bitter:Sweet or Nicola Conte to get it started, and it’s suggested some good similar music. I seem to hear a lot from the Hotel Costes CD Mix series–which is now on my Amazon wish list.
    Anyway, soldier on–I’ve about another couple of hours until I’ll be sipping a Hendricks martini…
    Oh crap, I think I’m out of Hendricks…

  3. On an otherwise recent good day gone bad, I decided to rent a “dramedy” drama=comedy and we watched “Little Miss Sunshine” – so when I am feeling a bit down in the dumps and my lip is not feeling stiff, I play “Super-Freaky” to really get me razzed up. (Little Miss Sunshine performs to that in a sort of rather strip-tease of a dance that her Grandfather taught her)
    It does the trick for me. It helps to press out all the kinks, wrinkles and frowns suddenly turn to smiles.
    Laughter is the best medicine.

  4. Man, I have those days at least for half the week. Usually my remedy consists of iced mochas, Slurpees or green M & M’s, or a combination of all three.

  5. Hello Elegant–sorry to hear about your day, but happy that things appear to have improved since . . . Hope things are well with your grandmother and her recovery, and the children and dog are back to their proper selves.

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