Sexiest Man Without a Pulse

Around this time of year, the end caps of supermarket checkout areas are filled with "People Magazines" showcasing the Sexiest Man Alive. The denizens of this list have long included Clooney, Pitt, Damon, Depp, Gere, et al. The cast of the "Oceans Eleven" remakes, Ben Affleck, a handful of buff young TV stars showcasing their pecs, a few real life heroes thrown in for good measure. I'll admit perusing the issue for male eye candy is an interesting diversion while waiting behind someone with a basket filled to the rim with Thanksgiving haul. But, yawn. Ho hum. Same old. Why limit the list to those with a pulse? History is resplendent with film idols, historical figures, and the like with sex appeal up the ying yang. Without further adieu, I present my list of Sexiest Men Deceased.

In Memorium, 2009

2009 marked the passing of quite a few celebrity hotties. While intelligence and a sense of humor would place William Safire and Soupy Sales at the top of the list, I will stick with the more obvious choices, in the tradition of "People" and "E!"

Dennis Cole: American actor, once married to Jacyln Smith of "Charlie's Angels and K-Mart fame. In the seventies, he had a bitchin' head of blond feathered hair and a cute face.

DJ Am/Adam Goldstein: Tall, dark, handsome in a brooding way. Amazing talent. Live fast, die young, leave a good-looking corpse kind of sexy.

Michael Jackson: Talent in the stratosphere. Dancing phenomenon. Enough said.

Ted Kennedy: Power. Last living Kennedy sibling of JFK and Bobby. Kennedy equals sex appeal. The hard living, yachting Hyannisport meets Chappaquiddick bad boy thing doesn't hurt. Nor did his commitment to universal healthcare.

Ricardo Montabaln: Welcome to Fantasy Island. White linen suit, suave, sexy accent. And remember those Chrysler commercials.

Patrick Swayze: "Dirty Dancing," "Ghost" I rest my case.



Still Dead After All These Years...

Humphrey Bogart: "We will always have Paris."

Rock Hudson: Pretty dreamy in those flicks with Doris Day...

William Holden: Hard drinking bad boy, especially in "Sabrina" with his move of filching a bottle of bubbly and two flutes destined for the tennis court...

Bobby Burns, Scottish poet

Elvis: Those lips, those eyes, that deep fried peanut butter and banana???

James Dean: Smouldering...

JFK: See above mention of Teddy...

John F. Kennedy, Jr.

Bobby Kennedy

Sinatra: The Rat Pack had a special glamorous sexiness of its own...

Dean Martin

Peter Lawford

Paul Newman: Those eyes and that salad dressing!

Heath Ledger: Talent and sex appeal in one...

Cary Grant: Elegance personified...

Gregory Peck: My mom's favorite...Those eyebrows and "Roman Holiday"...



I am sure I have left off a slew of others. Please feel free to leave your own suggestions...

In Memory of Mom's Apple Pie

This weeks marks eight years since my mother passed away from breast cancer. Today, as I perused the produce aisle, I was tempted by the MacIntosh, Romes and Granny Smiths to bake her famous apple pie.

My childhood memories are puncuated by the vision of piles of red and green apple peels filling the kitchen sink. I would pull the peels on top of the pile, munching as I did my homework while my mother prepared her grandmother's beloved pie. Now, my namesake, Grandma Bessie, made her crust from scratch. Her secret ingredients were a dash of lemon or orange juice in the crust and filling and a layer of corn flakes under the apples. My mom used Ritz pie crust which was probably the only prepared crust without lard. I have used Marie Callendar's and sprinkle my bottom crust with Cinnamon Toast Crunch but everything else remains the same.

During the final weeks of my mother's life, she would share with me some of her recipes for brisket, stuffed chicken breasts, and that famous pie. As with most women, our recipes will outlive us. We hope our children continue to make our lasagna, brisket, wontons, or pierogis long after we are gone.

Yesterday, my younger daughter helped me slice the apples with the same kind of gadget my mother used. "When I grow up, I am going to be a great cook," she proudly noted. I am sad my daughter never had the chance to know my mother. Yet, from a certain angle, she resembles her and certainly shares her childhood spunk.

In a sense, our loved ones never leave us. We are bequeathed their favorite recipes, maybe some jewelry or a favorite scarf. We reminisce with family members and friends. We look at old photographs, fondly remembering the past.

To immortalize my mother, my grandma Fran, and her mother-in-law Grandma Bessie, I leave you the family recipe for apple pie.

Mom's Apple Pie

prepared double pie crust

1/2 c. crushed cornflakes (or Cinnamon Toast Crunch)

4 MacIntosh apples, pared, cored, sliced

4 Granny Smith apples, pared, cored, sliced

3/4 c. sugar

2 T. flour

1/2 tsp. cinnamon

1/4 tsp. salt

1 T. orange juice or lemon juice

Butter

Preheat oven to 425 degrees. Toss apples, sugar, flour, cinnamon salt, and orange or lemon juice in a large bowl. Line pan with half of pie crust. Sprinkle bottom of crust with 1/2 cup crushed cornflakes or Cinnamon Toast Crunch. Fill crust with apple mixture. Dot with butter. Cover with top crust. Pinch sides and make fork impressions in top crust. Bake 10 minutes at 425 degrees. Reduce temperature to 350 degrees and bake for an additional 50 minutes or until top browns.

Palin/McCain '12?

I miss Sarah Palin. "I can see Alaska from my front porch," "Joe the Plumber," and all those other moments which seem to have been ripped from SNL's "Weekend Update."

So, I was thrilled to find out a profoundly witty satirist friend of mine has written a new book, Sarah Palin's Secret Diary, forged by Joey Green. This parody exposes behind the scene antics of the extended Palin family and includes such juicy tidbits as books the former Governor would love to burn, how to speak Maverick, waterboarding Tina Fey, campaign slogans for '12, and what Sarah did with all those ritzy clothes.

A perfect holiday gift for your friends who are Democrats (and even Republicans with a sense of humor!), Sarah Palin's Secret Diary is available for just $9.99 through Amazon. If you act now -- or even in a few days -- you can get free shipping with the purchase of three copies!

The link to order Joey's 174-page book is



For more information, go to

It's Five O'Clock Somewhere...

It's five o'clock somewhere in the world. In other words, time for a stiff drink. It may be more socially acceptable to don workout gear on your way to spin class following a tough day at the office. But there will always be a crowd at the local watering hole, toasting the end of day whistle. Whenever I watch "Mad Men" on AMC, I find myself craving one of those cool retro cocktails, evocative of simpler, drunken times. (I also find myself wondering how these folks could possibly have gotten any work done, given their proclivity for midday scotch and groping with secretaries.) I have been considering a trip to Crate & Barrel to purchase highball and double old fashioned glasses. Maybe I will even make some rumaki! So, let's don a skinny tie or little black dress with pearls and clink our glasses. In a virtual sense. I leave you with a collection of classic cocktail recipes in hope you'll invite me over for a swank evening of drinking. We'll leave the cigarettes at home!

Old Fashioned Manhattan

1 oz. whiskey

1/2 oz. sweet vermouth

3 dashes bitters

1 t. sugar

1 splash club soda

Pour the whiskey, sweet vermouth, bitters and sugar into a cocktail glass over crushed ice. Stir well. Top with club soda, and stir again gently. Garnish with a maraschino cherry, and serve.

Tom Collins

2 oz. gin

1 oz. freshly squeezed lemon juice

1 t. superfine sugar

3 oz. club soda

1 maraschino cherry

1 slice orange

In a shaker half-filled with ice cubes, combine the gin, lemon juice, and sugar. Shake well. Strain into a collins glass almost filled with ice cubes. Add the club soda. Stir and garnish with the cherry and the orange slice.

Gimlet

4 parts gin or vodka

1 part Rose's lime juice

Serve straight or on the rocks in an old fashioned glass. Garnish with lime


Whiskey Sour

2 oz. blended whiskey
juice of 1/2 lemon
1/2 t. powdered sugar
1 Maraschino cherry
1/2 slice lemon
Shake blended whiskey, juice of lemon, and powdered sugar with ice and strain into a whiskey sour glass. Decorate with the half-slice of lemon, top with the cherry, and serve.

Champagne Cocktail

2 dashes bitters
1 tsp sugar
chilled Champagne
1 twist lemon peel
Place one lump of sugar with bitters in a chilled champagne flute. Fill with chilled champagne. Add the twist of lemon peel and serve.

Cheers!

Ferris Wheels of Life

Today, I took my daughter to our town's annual namesake event, The Pumpkin Festival. My daredevil daughter is always excited about the prospect of rides and the allure of the all you can ride wristband. Kind of like a compulsive overeater at a Vegas buffet. Much to her chagrin, the actual rides numbered two. A somewhat decrepit-looking carny Ferris wheel and a tot train which circled around the park's sport court. I ponied up a few bucks for a couple of ride tickets and we headed towards the sole ride which could be construed as adventurous in the eyes of a nine year old.

Apparently, the rest of the festival attendees shared our notion. This would undoubtedly be one of life's experiences where time spent waiting would outlast the ride itself. I presume there may be some hidden meaning behind my current obsession with waiting. But, then again, maybe not. In high school and college lit classes, I would often ponder author's intent. Was there a symbolic meaning behind every word or phrase?

Back to the subject at hand. The longer I spent in the line, the more unsure I became about riding the somewhat rickety looking carnival attraction. A sign listing height requirements for children "traveling alone" calmed my nerves, especially when I noticed a few kids who could not have been older than first graders proudly climbing into the seats. Well, that is until the woman in front of us declared she wouldn't be joining her kids because she would "get sick." I had promised my daughter at least a spin on a ride and I was not about to let my hesitation disappoint.

My daughter dropped the tickets into the bucket. We climbed into our basket. The attendant buckled and harnessed us into safety. As we slowly ascended the circle, stopping so others could get on, my daughter commented, "I hope this ride goes really fast so it will be over soon!" I chuckled under my breath. I am more of the "let's just close our eyes if it gets too scary" school of thought.

When everyone was aboard, the ride began more fluid movements. I have to admit, it was rather fun! I sang along to a Journey tribute band as we soared above the park, admiring the mountains in the distance. A beautiful, clear October day in Southern California.

The ride was over within two songs. We climbed out of the basket, ready for an order of freshly cut fries and a hand squeezed lemonade or some other carnival treat. Never one to take things at face value, I thought about the day's lesson. Life sometimes resembles a rickety carnival ride. We spend so much energy worrying about the future, in general and specific. When our basket stops atop to let others on, time stands still. We wish the ride would speed up so we could get off quickly. Anticipation is often much worse than the actual object of fear.

If we admire the surroundings and sing along to the music, the ride becomes less scary. If all else fails, we can always shut our eyes!

Does She or Doesn't She?

This morning, my Yahoo homepage announced the results of a study comparing the primping times of blondes and brunettes. I asked myself, "Why?" Who sponsored this study?

According to the study, brunettes spend 66 minutes per day grooming vs 72 minutes for blondes. In other words, blondes spend 22 days per year vs the brunettes' 19 days. Brunettes are more likely to leave the house without doing their hair and makeup.

I suppose I am the exception rather than the rule. My readers know by now. I am a total girl. Sephora is my candy store. I brake for a fabulous red lipstick and never leave the house without my Dior Show mascara. And I have never nor will ever be a blonde. (Although "some of my best friends are blondes!")

So what can we surmise from this study? Please "enlighten me."

34 x 30, Dark Rinse, Homage to Don Fisher, Founder of Gap

Upon reading of the September 27 passing of Don Fisher, founder of the Gap, I recalled a Saturday Night Live skit which featured Adam Sandler and David Spade in a drag portrayal of "Gap Girls" at the local mall. The two complained about their job duties which included folding sweaters and jeans.

Gap, as it is now referred, most likely has as many critics as enthusiasts. As a brand, the Gap may never dismiss its association with khaki and blue oxford button-down wearing Yuppies on Casual Fridays. Regardless, Don Fisher was a marketing and retail genius as well as generous philanthropist and supporter of the arts.

The first time I stepped into a Gap was in the Willowbrook Mall in Wayne, New Jersey. The perimeter of cubicle-shelved stacks of Levi's was a unique although not particularly inviting concept. Gap was an innovator in the global phenomenon which led to a Starbuck's on every corner. In later years, Gap carried only private label lines, peppered with occasional forays into limited edition "designer" fashion. Some feel Gap does basic best. Khaki's, jeans, cardigans, pullovers. I was a huge fan of the Audrey line a few years back. Skinny capris, shells, ballet flats evocative of a young Hepburn whose image from "Funny Face" appeared on our televisions, dancing to "Back in Black."

Back in 1969, Don Fisher had no retail experience when he opened the first Gap in his hometown of San Francisco, a shop filled with Levi's, records, and tapes. Credited with inventing the specialized retail category, he eventually expanded the company into a nearly $15 billion dollar business with over 134,000 employees and more than 3,100 stores. At first, Don envisioned a small chain of maybe 10 stores selling the casual wear which became quite popular during the 1960s and 1970s.

In the late 1960s, Fisher had leased space in a building he had bought to a Levi's salesman who opened a showroom. Purchasing jeans, he noticed a dearth of sizes and lengths. He envisioned a store which carried a wide assortment of sizes in one place. In his business plan, he noted four basic requirements for success: location (an area populated by 12-25 year olds), sufficient parking, adequate stock, and the right employees. Don and Doris opened the first Gap on San Francisco's Ocean Avenue. The store was a smashing hit. The company went public in 1973 and the stock split nine times since then. In 1972, the Gap label was launched. Retail whiz Mickey Drexler was hired in '83. The Gap acquired a small two story and catalogue company called Banana Republic. A few years later, they created Old Navy which became the first retailer to reach a billion dollars in sales in fewer than four years. Today, the company brands include online shoe purveyor Piperlime which has added an edited line of designer jeans and casual clothing and Athleta, a yoga and activewear online site. Several years back, the company launched Forth and Towne, a retail experience targeted to the 35 plus customer who grew up with but lost touch with the Gap. All stores were closed after an 18 month trial run.

Gap, with its five subdivisions, continues to be the largest speciality retailer in the U.S. Don and Doris Fisher's original concept of a small chain of casual wear shops selling jeans and music to 12-25 years olds during the Youth Quake mushroomed into a retail and cultural phenomenon.