What’s up with themed hotel rooms?

My family is off to Finland tomorrow to visit some friends in Helsinki. We’ll be staying at a hotel where all the rooms are categorized around four themes: mystical, passion, desire, and envy. Apparently, these refer to the emotions depicted in Finnish mythical literature (Who knew?). We’re in the Envy Suite. My mother will be down the hall in the “Passion King.”  Say no more…

Last year, we spent a week in a hotel on an island off of Croatia where all the rooms were decorated with colors inspired by the island’s local flora:  grape, fig, agave, etc. We stayed in a bright red pomegranate suite.

I must confess that I’m a big fan of the themed hotel room. I remember a point in my life about ten years ago when I traveled a bit for work and felt like I was just shuffling from one Embassy Suites to the next. Not that there’s anything wrong with Embassy Suites, mind you. But it’s just so much more exciting to go to a hotel when there’s some sort of Karma associated with your room. It re-introduces some of the mystique surrounding hotels that you lose once you leave childhood.

(BTW: Worst themed hotel experience ever?  Breaking up with someone in the “honeymoon” suite at a bed and breakfast in Mendocino, California, replete with zebra-skinned bedspread and ceiling mirrors. Yes, it was that bad. And then we decided to take the “scenic route” home along the coast. Took like six l-o-n-g hours to get back to Palo Alto. Total Nightmare.)

But I’m really looking forward to tomorrow’s trip. I can’t wait to see what “envy” looks like when you translate it into desks and bedspreads and lighting fixtures. If nothing else, it should serve to distract me from Finnish food. Reindeer carpaccio, anyone?

Image: Hotel Room 27 by diebmx via Flickr under a Creative Commons License.

Soon after I started this blog, I got an email from a former colleague who was quite taken with the RealDelia concept. “Think about it,” he said. “You have so much material. I mean how many shows are there featuring ex-pat American PhD freelance essayist ex-radio producer moms?”

He was teasing me, of course (he also said that I should have called the blog “Lloyds of London,” but then advised me to save that for the reality TV show). But he does touch on a serious point. Like many people out there in today’s work force, I’ve done a lot of different things in my professional life which, combined, give me a diverse set of experiences to write about and talk about.

Lisa Belkin had a terrific article about this phenomenon in the New York Times Magazine earlier this year, in which she discussed Caroline Kennedy’s failed bid for the New York senate seat vacated by Hillary Clinton. However you felt about Kennedy as a candidate, Belkin’s basic point was that Kennedy may have lacked experience for the job in a linear-I’ve-been-preparing-for-this-job-all-my-life sort of way (unlike, say, Kristen Gillebrand, who eventually got the nod). But the sort of “kaleidoscope” resume that Kennedy brought to the table (e.g., lawyer, writer, fundraiser, parent) is increasingly the norm in today’s economy, a by-product both of the dot-com economy which threw traditional career trajectories out the window, as well as the reality of women returning to the workforce after having children.

Belkin’s article also reminded me of some of the arguments raised in Malcolm Gladwell’s latest book, Outliers. In a New Yorker article last Fall entitled “Late Bloomers: Why do we Equate Genius with Precocity?,” Gladwell – drawing on extensive research by David Galenson at the University of Chicago – points out that many of the world’s most celebrated “geniuses” – people like Paul Cezanne, to name but one – didn’t start out as geniuses right off the bat, but rather took years to culivate their talents. So it wasn’t that Cezanne was discovered late (as is sometimes erroneously thought to be the case); it’s that he simply wasn’t very good at what he did until quite late in his career. In the meantime, he was experimenting.

Taken together, I found the messages in these articles to be quite reassuring. Belkin’s article suggests that the economy may be changing in ways that rewards diversity over continuity where careers are concerned. And Gladwell’s article suggests that if you haven’t been labeled a genius by the time you’re twenty five, you’ve still got plenty of time ahead of you. In either case, the message seems to be:  experiment away…

*****

While we’re on the topic of experimentation, I took my kids to see Dan Zane and Friends today in London. Some of you may remember Zanes from his earlier career in the pop band The Del Fuegos. But he has since reinvented himself as a creator of  “homemade family music.” Haven’t seen him perform live? It’s a must…

Image: Kaleidoscope FR 5340 1907 by Lucy Nieto via Flickr under a Creative Commons License.

I woke up today with a hangover.

I’d been inside all week with my five year-old who’s on Easter break from school. So when some friends called up for a “lady’s night out,” I was all over it. (As I walked out the door, my daughter invited me to dance. Um, no thank you…I think I’d prefer a beer.)

Neither of these two friends drinks alcohol anymore, so it was up to me to show the flag.

The sad part is I only had two drinks. Beers, in fact. I don’t even drink hard liquor any more. Somehow, I seem to have by-passed that whole cocktail culture revival thing. (Dare I say that I got there just a “tini” bit late?)

But, apparently, two Asahi’s were enough to do the trick. I woke up around 4:30 in the morning with the tell-tale signs of a hangover:  the beginnings of a migraine, a dry, cottony mouth and a vaguely nauseous feeling that caused me to quickly down two Advil and a glass of water and inform my husband that he’d need to get up with the kids. (I love that in Britain it’s not called a “drinking” problem, but rather, a “drinks” problem. So I guess I have a “two drinks” problem.)

I know, it’s pathetic. But it’s actually an improvement over the last time I had a hangover, which was about three or four months ago. I went out for drinks with some people from my acting class, many of whom were a good ten or fifteen years younger than I am. I not only spent the night nursing two Coronas, but also found myself lamenting that the bar was too noisy, too hot, and too uncomfortable, and left well before midnight. It was another one of those moments where I just felt really old.

Why are hangovers so much worse when you’re older? For God’s sake, I only had two beers and I spent the whole day in a complete fog! When I was younger there was almost something fun – inviting, even – about being hungover. It was a challenge of sorts to beat it into submission.

Boy, those days are gone.

But I guess there are some upsides to the post-40 hangover. In the old days, I’d fight it off with some combination of greasy food, a nap and then, invariably, a hair of the dog. Today I lay in bed all afternoon with my daughter watching Oliver. When all else fails, there’s nothing like a rousing round of Oom Pah Pah to give you a quick pick-me-up. I can’t say it beats a Bloody Mary, but for now it might just have to do.

Image: Day 218/365: Alcohol Free Friday by ooOJasonOoo via Flickr under a Creative Commons License

Public radio has hit hard times in the United States. According to recent accounts in the Wall Street Journal and the Washington Post, National Public Radio is having budgetary problems resulting in show cancellations as well as tensions with its member stations over fundraising.

I worked at Chicago Public Radio for four years, so part of my interest in these developments is purely personal. But I wanted to talk about it here because it’s also the case that listening to public radio – in America, at least – is and always has been a much “older thing” to do. No one I know in the States began listening (or much less contributing money) to public radio until they were well into their thirties. I distinctly remember the first time that I began to identify with a local station – WAMU in Washington, DC. I was thirty-four.

I’m not sure why listening to public radio has become synonymous with maturity, exactly. It could be the long form interviews…the more in-depth news analysis…the sometimes esoteric programming…or simply the age of the average guest/host that somehow, combined, demand a longer attention span. The sort that comes with age.

There’s certainly been a lot of handwringing within the public radio world over how to reach a younger demographic. Chicago Public Radio responded with something called Vocalo. Others may remember the short-lived Bryant Park Project which was meant to cultivate a younger, more diverse NPR audience. (A friend of mine who’s an economist once appeared on a BPP segment via telephone. As she waited for her interview to begin, she listened to the hosts talk with some hip, young guy about his “podcamp” that was spreading like wildfire. Then, when they segued to her story, they literally said: “So, there’s something going on in DC about health insurance programs. No, don’t reach for the ‘off ‘ button on your Ipod! This is actually interesting…” Ouch.).

I don’t know how NPR is going to square this circle. Apparently, listeners are at an all time high, but they are tuning in for shorter and shorter periods of time. We here in Great Britain face our own travails with the BBC (more on that some other time), but at least I don’t have to worry that my beloved (lengthy, overly-intellectual and decidedly middle-aged) programming will end any time soon. Phew.

In the meantime, I think I’ll just tune out of this whole dilemma and go back to that great Aldous Huxley retrospective I was just listening to on Radio Four…

*****

If you are a public radio junkie, by all means visit a new website created by two of my former Chicago Public Radio colleagues -  Radiopublic – where you can listen to and talk about your favorite shows, as well as catch up on what’s going on inside the industry.

Image: National Public Radio Headquarters by SavetheDave via Flickr under a Creative Commons license.

Every Wednesday I offer Tips for Adulthood.

Via the informative and entertaining Life Two website, I came across this thoughtful essay by a woman who looked in the mirror one day and saw her mother’s face. Or not exactly her mother’s face, since they don’t look anything alike, but the contours of a face that is aging and thus evokes all that is her mother.

I don’t look anything like my mother either. But as the years pass, I’m struck by the ways in which I’ve come to embrace a variety of behaviors that I once not only deplored in her – but  fled in horror. Surely, this must be a telltale sign of adulthood.

So, without further ado:  Five Signs You’ve Turned Into Your Mother.

Here are mine:

1. I carry a large library book wherever I go. No, not a magazine, newspaper or something otherwise easily folded. But a large – often hard-cover – heavy and cumbersome tome. And, like my mother, I invariably carry this book in some sort of cloth tote bag obtained from a public radio fundraiser or local bookstore that has since gone out of business.

2. I do back exercises. When I was a kid, it seemed like my mother was forever lying on the bedroom floor “wogging” her back. Used to think that was nuts. Now I do it all the time. And enjoy it.

3. I shop at vintage stores. Oh! How this used to mortify me when she shopped at second-hand stores. They all seemed so down-market with their crowded racks and musty smells. Now, those are the only places I shop, even for funerals.

4. I re-use things. I could always spot a package from my mother a mile off when I was younger. It would arrive in a manila envelope with these giant black magic marker pen strokes all over it where the original address had been crossed out and replaced with my own. Yup, I’m doing that now too. She also re-used tea bags. Tick that box as well.

5. I make lists. My mother is a compulsive list-maker: groceries, errands, phone calls, you name it. I do this too. But I’ve taken it one obsessive-compulsive step further. I announce my lists. As in “Now, I’m going upstairs…then I’m going to get dressed…then I’ll take out the re-cycling.” My husband really enjoys this. Not. With that sixth sense people develop when they’ve been in a relationship for a long time, he often just admonishes “No Announcements” when I get up from the table, before I’ve even opened my mouth.

Now it’s your turn. What are the things you swore you’d never emulate in your mother (or father) that you now find yourself doing?

*****
My sister sent me this fabulous link today. I won’t say anything more about it, other than to encourage you to stick with it. It’s well worth it, especially for those – like me – with a weakness for musical theatre.

Image: Unidentified Mother and Child via Flickr under a Creative Commons License.

Not so long ago, I got an email from an old boyfriend. His marriage was on the rocks and he was feeling angry and betrayed and he wanted to know what to do.

My first reaction was one of shock. Although our own relationship had gone through its ups and downs, we’d managed to patch things up and remain friends (over email). But I hadn’t heard from him in years. So his cry for help came completely out of the blue. (I feel compelled to cue Paul Simon singing “I met my old lover on the street last night…”)

My second reaction was one of discomfort. Of the many professions I’d trained for over the years, therapist was not one of them. Sure, I analyze myself endlessly and give advice to close friends on all manner of things. But an ex-lover? I wasn’t sure I was up to the task.

My hesitation was made worse by the fact that about ten years ago, another ex had telephoned me for marital advice. His wife had abruptly stopped speaking to him. And not as in they weren’t communicating well; she literally wasn’t speaking to him at all. That marriage ended in divorce (though he subsequently re-married quite happily). But the whole experience gave me cold feet. After all, if I screwed this up, I’d be 0 for 2. That’s worse than the US national divorce average!

But, eventually, I felt flattered. Because when I gave it some thought, I realized that I really did have some limited advice for my ex and his wife (which mostly amounted to some version of “you guys should really sit down and talk to one another”). And it seemed, magically, to be of use. A few days later, I got an incredibly long and grateful email from him about how my advice had revitalized their relationship. His wife (whom I’d always assumed just hated me, and perhaps did) even hoped to meet me some day.

I’m not sure what it is about me that causes my exes to bring their marital problems to my doorstep. But it does make me feel like I’ve come along way. As someone prone to jealousy, even ex-poste (I once hurled a plate at a wall…long story), I’m not necessarily prone to maturity where relationships are concerned. But you know you’ve grown up when you can look at someone else’s relationship – someone with whom you once had your own issues – and analyze it in an impartial, even helpful way.

And, hey, if all else fails, I definitely have a career ahead as a couples counselor. In today’s economy, we all need a back up…

*****

Speaking of maturity, a friend introduced me to the wonderful Formerly Hot website/blog, a self-described “tween site” for grown ups. Be sure to check out the “formerly hall of fame” which includes a listing for margarine. Love it!

Image: Bride and Groom by Sharron Goodyear via Free Digital Photos.net.

My family went through a crisis recently. And I noticed that it affected each family member differently. Some of us got very emotional. Some withdrew into themselves. Others seemed busier than ever.

In the midst of it all, my sister – an avid reader – revealed that she was re-reading The Lord of the Rings trilogy. She then went on to say that she did this every two years or so, whenever she got really stressed. Apparently, she finds it soothing.

My first thought was: that’s weird. I myself have never been all that into fantasy literature, despite a son who recently declared The Silmarillion to be his favorite book.  Not familiar with that one? Think of it as a sort of Middle Earth version of The Book of Matthew, Chapter One (the one that reads “And Abraham begat Isaac; and Isaac begat Jacob, etc. etc.” Except that in this case, because it’s Tolkien,  it reads more like “Rian, daughter of Belegund, was the wife of Huor, son of Galdor…,” on and on for like 300 pages. Small print. The fun never stops…

But my sister’s comment got me thinking. We do all have our own ways to escape when we’re feeling tired or stressed or over-extended. On her terrific blog, The Happiness Project, Gretchen Rubin talks about creating “a place of refuge.” By which she means a literal space  – for her, it’s often libraries – that can serve as a peaceful refuge for her thoughts.

But you don’t actually need to go somewhere to find solace, as my sister’s Lord of the Rings habit reminds us. My husband listens to music on headphones or watches concert videos. I just spent two hours with a friend whose husband did nothing but garden the entire time I was there. To me it looked exhausting, dirty and  nerve-wracking, but he was clearly completely zoned out.

I tend to dive into family sagas when I want to chill out. I’m currently in a French cinema phase – Summer Hours, I’ve Loved You So Long – to name a few. Or I’ll read something like Revolutionary Road. There’s something about immersing myself in someone else’s problems that I find…comforting. (Yes, I know, I’m a freak.)

How about you? How do you unwind? And where do you go?

Eln Sila lumenn omentielvo (a star shines upon the hour of our meeting…)

*****

And speaking of literary escapes, via the Practicing Writing blog, I came across this list of obscure literary terms. Fun stuff!!

Image: Woman in her Garden, Virgin Islands? via Flickr under a Creative Commons license.

My husband got an email from his boss the other morning. It said that the university where he teaches had implemented a new dress code: “No jeans. For men, ties; For women, dress demurely.”

Hmmmm.

Needless to say, the new code inspired a spate of very funny (and some outraged) emails. “Demurely?” wrote in one female colleague who’d just joined the faculty. “Isn’t that a tad 19th century?” Another (male) colleague found the new policy worryingly sexist: “I should be allowed to wear a demure dress too if I want!” The best comment, however, came from a professor who, in the interest of fairness, asked whether the school could address the “appalling” level of student dress as well. “Perhaps they could issue combs at registration?” he queried cynically.

Fortunately, before all the female professors ran out and bought their new burkas, it came to light that this had all been an April Fool’s prank. And a good one at that. It certainly had me going.

But I think  it does touch on a very sensitive issue vis one’s career: how do you dress appropriately for work, particularly in this era of business casual? What’s too casual?

I remember my first job – also at a University – where I looked like I was about 12 years old giving a lecture to 150 25-year olds each week. So every day I would don my “costume” – which was invariably some version of pants suit, heels and silk scarf – the latter tossed in to add 5 years to my youthful visage (or the equivalent in gravitas). Didn’t work very well.

I always thought it was particularly hard for women to figure this whole sartorial thing out, as we tend to both judge and be judged more harshly for what we wear. When I was teaching, for example, someone wrote on one of my course reviews that I needed “a new pair of shoes.”

“Hello? Is that really important?” I thought indignantly. “Aren’t you listening to anything I say?” Apparently not. And, upon reflection, I guess those lectures on bureaucratic reorganization were really boring…

But then I read this post by a VP at Google fretting over which footwear – Uggs or Eccos – was most appropriate for his company (Oh to be a VP at Google!) And I do remember a friend in graduate school who got a course review from one student which read: “Mike needs to lose the black socks and Docksiders.” Ouch.

Penelope Trunk, master of all things work/life related, solved the problem by hiring a stylist to help her shop. Which is one solution, if you can afford it.

I can’t. Which is why I’m happy to have finally landed a career where I wear some version of my pajamas every day and no one but the mailman ever sees me. So if we’re really meant to “dress for the job we want,” I think I’m doing really well: at my last job, I once accidentally wore my slippers to the office.

******

A great website for finding affordable/attractive office wear is The Working Closet.

Image: Woman in Pink Dress Sitting in Chair Holding Roses via Flickr under a Creative Commons license.

I was intrigued by a recent article analyzing the diminishing preponderance of street protests in the United States, despite so-called “populist rage” at the current economic situation. The author, sociologist Sudhir Venkatesh, argues that for a variety of reasons – technological change, suburban sprawl and above all, personal debt – social protest isn’t as easy or as desirable as it was even 15 years ago. The net result, he claims, is a sort of street-level version of Robert Putnam’s famous “bowling alone” argument: yet one more indicator of the decline of civic engagement in American life.

I live in London where anti-capitalist riots in anticipation of the G-20 Summit resulted in one death and some 80 arrests yesterday. Images like this one have been all over the news here.

It’s true that the ring leader of this current wave of protests is a very charismatic 60 year-old, Chris Knight, (suggesting you’re never too old to burn someone in effigy.) But just eye-balling the coverage of these protests, most of the protesters look to be quite young.

Which makes sense. When you’re young, you have the time, the energy, the large social circles and – it must be said – the anger to get out there and march when a public policy annoys you or your favorite local coffee shop shuts down. I’ve participated in the odd march and rally in my life, but it was mostly when I was in my early 20′s and had a lot of time on my hands and was largely free of the assorted job/family/parenting responsibilities I have today. So maybe the reason people aren’t protesting so much anymore (the G-20 riots notwithstanding) isn’t so much the “anger fatigue” brought on by an endless stream of wars, layoffs and public policy nightmares – as Venkatesh suggests – so much as anger fatigue brought on by…life itself. (It would be interesting to know how an aging population – both in the U.S. and globally – fits into this analysis.)

What do you think? Do you still take to the streets to protest anything? And if not, why not?

• ****

Speaking of protest: Further to my earlier post on breast cancer screening, a group of doctors and patients has written a letter to the Times of London decrying the alleged over-estimation of screening benefits and under-estimation of perverse health effects that can derive from early mammograms. The letter has prompted National Health Service officials in Britain to re-word their pamphlets on said topic. Stay tuned on this one…we all have a stake in figuring this out.

Image: Women Protesting for Equal Wages at the Ministry of Social Affairs (Netherlands) via Flickr under a Creative Commons license.

In last week’s tip list, I posted about 5 Household Items You Can Do Without.

When my husband read that post, he said: “You know, a lot of people might not find those odd.” To which I responded: “C’mon! A pickle picker? Really?” But I stand corrected. To date, the running count on (self-declared) pickle picker owners is three.

UPDATE: THE OFFICIAL COUNT IS UP TO FIVE.

So this week, in a nod to my gadget-loving husband, I’m going to post about 5 Household items I’ve learned – courtesy of him – that you can’t do without…or at least can’t do without once you’ve had one yourself:

1. Recipe Holder – You know how whenever you’re making a recipe, you either can’t hold the page open, can’t see it from where you’re cooking and/or something splatters all over the cook book, rendering the recipe illegible? Search no more. Get one of these babies and you can just prop it up on a table while you cook.

2. Lap Desk – Don’t get too excited, folks. This is just a lap desk, not a lap dance. It’s a small, flat surface you can write on when you want to work somewhere other than a desk – e.g. your favorite chair, your bed, etc. Yes, I know. There’s such a thing called a book. But it’s often hard to locate a book that’s large enough to hold whatever it is you’re writing. And if you’re working on multiple sheets of paper at once – grading papers, for example, or cross-checking lists – this comes in really handy.

3. Vertical Chicken Roaster – Here’s the one we own. For reasons that elude me (gravity??) chicken cooks better – i.e., is more juicy and succulent – when you cook it vertically. And who doesn’t like succulent chicken? (I’ve always thought it would be great to come up with a list of food descriptors that really turn people on and off. I’m a sucker for anything that’s “pan seared,” but loathe the term “drizzled.”)

4. Lever Model Corkscrews – Yes, these are expensive. But if you drink wine with any regularity, you will welcome this easy, one-stop method for removing the cork without leaving any of the bits inside. Added bonus: they make the deltoid-challenged among us feel like strongmen. Also make great wedding presents.

5. Roncilio Silvia Espresso Machine - Also pricey. But if you drink espresso/cappucino/latte and care about how it tastes, once you start using Ms. Silvia (as some friends affectionately refer to theirs), you’ll (a). never go back to Starbucks and (b). easily earn back the money you would have spent there in a month. True believers should add the Roncilio “Rocky” grinder to the mix.

• ***

For more household gadgetry, check out burbiajuice.

And if you’re feeling angry, be sure to vent your frustration through this gadget (hat tip: freakonomics).