Tomorrow night – Friday, May 1st – I will be reading from my novel Outtakes From a Marriage and participating in a panel discussion with two other authors, Marie Bostwick and Lauren Lipton.

The event is part of a series done by the Litchfield County Writer’s Project, in conjunction with the University of Connecticut. If you live in the Connecticut area, and have nothing else to do, try to come. It’s free! It’ll be fun and not boring, promise! For information call 860-626-6850.

I am calling on you, once again, for advice. Denis and I are going to the White House Correspondent’s Dinner next weekend (in case you’ve missed my previous boasts about this.) I know that I claimed that I was going to wear the black dress that I wore to last year’s Emmys and the Golden Globes, but I have been talked out of it. The truth is, the dress is a little worn. There’s a stain. THE PRESIDENT WILL BE THERE, a friend finally had to shout at me.

I still don’t think it’s right to spend thousands on a designer dress in this time when so many are struggling, so I decided to visit my friends at the Albright Fashion Library. The Albright Fashion Library has all the latest couture gowns, shoes, accessories, and you just borrow them, for a fee, and then return them. I actually wore an Oscar de la Renta gown from Albright’s a few years ago. Irene Albright, the owner, is a good friend of a friend of mine.

So today, off I went to the Fashion Library and I tried on a few lovely gowns. So please don’t look at my hair or my tired-looking puss, but, if you don’t mind, take a gander at these dresses and tell me which you like best.
First this, by Chanel. I don’t know why I feel I must pose arms akimbo:

Here’s the back:

This is by Ralph Lauren, who is an American and I actually said to the women who were helping me, “I really should wear an American designer, after all.” I’m sure they were thinking, Yes, indeed, Ann Leary can’t be seen wearing a foreign designer – why there’d be riots! An uprising! The entire morale of our nation rests on those linebacker shoulders, please God, let her choose an American designer!”

Anyway, here it is. It’s beautiful, but those guns of mine. I know Michelle isn’t ashamed of her shoulders and arms, but I wish mine were a little daintier. I don’t like to look like I could throw Denis over my shoulders and haul him into the place like a hillbilly.

See the back is the problem:

I’m just afraid the Secret Service agents will think I’m one of them.
I’m leaning towards the red, but what do you think?

[Sonnets are full of love, and this my tome]
by Christina Rossetti

Sonnets are full of love, and this my tome
Has many sonnets: so here now shall be
One sonnet more, a love sonnet, from me
To her whose heart is my heart’s quiet home,
To my first Love, my Mother, on whose knee
I learnt love-lore that is not troublesome;
Whose service is my special dignity,
And she my loadstar while I go and come
And so because you love me, and because
I love you, Mother, I have woven a wreath
Of rhymes wherewith to crown your honored name:
In you not fourscore years can dim the flame
Of love, whose blessed glow transcends the laws
Of time and change and mortal life and death.

Start with this:

Add this:

Throw in a smidgeon of this:

A pinch of that:

Well, there you have it – Lulu Stew!

Our vet, Dr Trish Grinnell from Aspetuck Animal Hospital called with the DNA results over the weekend. She posted this on the “Who’s Your Mama” page:

“Final results: 50% Airedale Terrier, 25% Saint Bernard, 12.5% each of Bearded Collie and Rhodesian Ridgeback. Some great guesses on the site! Lulu is the perfect mixture of all — except she forgot to make hips that work for her size!”

Now I’ll have to go over all the comments to see who was closest. I recall that there was one that said Airedale and collie. I also know there was a Rhodesian Ridgeback guess, which was a very good call. Thanks to all who voted.

My friend Moses took this photo of the daffodil circle behind his house. I had to shrink the photo in order for it to fit on the blog. It’s much better in larger format.

Still, this poem by Jean Garrigue seems fitting.

Spring Song II

And now my spring beauties,
Things of the earth,
Beetles, shards and wings of moth
And snail houses left
From last summer’s wreck,
Now spring smoke
Of the burned dead leaves
And veils of the scent
Of some secret plant,
Come, my beauties, teach me,
Let me have your wild surprise,
Yes, and tell me on my knees
Of your new life.

Sarah was on the right track. The camera had fallen in between the seats of my car, not my truck. Found it today. Now will bombard you with photos.

His Excellence:

You can see what a shorty he is when Lulu is near:

We went to Steep Rock today. Look how pleased he is to be getting out. I just adore this horse – not sure if I’ve mentioned that before. Look at that eye.

Will blog later about the characters we met there. Now I’m getting ready to go to The Soloist. I think that’s the name. Robert Downey, Jr., Jamie Fox?

Had so much fun with yesterday’s Q&A. Caroline had the great idea of finding out whether the Man of the Blog is single, and if so, fixing him up with one of the many women who are commenters here. I know several other men who read this blog, ALL single, who don’t comment. I’m literally frothing at the mouth with excitement! This could become a dating blog!

Oh, here’s one final photo. I was taking this shot of Gabriel who was quite jealous that I was allowing Mark to graze on our lawn. When I loaded the photo onto the computer, I saw that we had a little visitor. Can you see her? In the upper left hand corner?

Alright, I can’t figure out how to zoom and have already deleted it from camera. It was a young doe, grazing next to the horse field. Very cute.

I have somehow misplaced my camera (again) and so, am forced to use my words. I’m supposed to be a writer, so this should come easily for me, but I’m kind of blocked with my book right now and it seems to be spilling over into the blog. Have no idea what to blog about. Am happy to answer questions, though. Go ahead, ask away. I’m happy to answer questions about me and even more happy to give advice about you! Ask me anything, I’ll pretend I know the answer, even if I don’t.

I mentioned in an earlier post that Denis and I are going to the White House Correspondents’ Dinner next month and I can’t wait. I’m more excited about this event than, I think, any other I have attended. But, of course, I need something to wear. Yesterday I was in the city so I hit a few great department stores – Bergdorf’s, Barney’s, etc. to try on a few things. At Bergdorf’s, I breezed in and out of the showrooms, dazzled by the beautiful finery all around me. A very nice saleswoman asked me what I needed the gown for, and when I told her, she hustled me into a dressing room and began to bring me gowns and dresses designed by Valentino, Oscar de la Renta, etc. Oh, there were some beautiful gowns. I tried on a very pretty, very slimming lavender dress – I forget who the designer was, and then I looked at the pricetag. At first I thought the price was $14,000, so I chuckled, fished my reading glasses from my purse, and then read the price again. It was $14,000!

I called the saleswoman into the dressing room and told her that I hadn’t really planned to spend that much. She cheerfully gathered some gowns in the $4-6,000 range. After seeing the prices on the first batch she had brought in, these frocks seemed like outright bargains, and I can’t tell you how close I came to purchasing a $5900 gown.

“It’s handmade! It looks like it cost twice that!” said one of the salespeople. A small crowd of them had gathered – I guess things are slow in overpriced evening wear these days.

“It looks like it was made for you!” another exclaimed.

Then, the zinger that has made me purchase more outlandish rags than I care to admit: “Not many people can wear that dress, you really do it justice!”

When I heard that comment, I stepped back from the mirror. I squinted my eyes a little, so as not to see so clearly the little rolls of flesh that bulged out in front of my armpits, where the dress cut into me so tightly that it left welts that remained for hours.

It really is perfect, I thought. Who else could wear this dress?

I lapsed into a short reverie about the way the dress would transform me – perhaps forever. How it would deliver me, finally, onto the international stage. How the photographers would fight each other to catch a photo of me in the gown. “Mr. Leary!” they would cry out in exasperation at my husband, “Could you step aside, we’d like a shot of just Ann and the gown, please!”

Then I imagined having to fend off the advances of two of the sexiest men on earth.

“Check out Denis Leary’s wife, Barry. Nobody could wear that gown, I’m telling you, nobody …but her!”

“Please, Barack …I’m married, and so are you!” I would whisper as he whirled me around the dance floor, begging me to leave my husband for him.

“Rahm!” I would say, pulling his hand from my knee. “Please, remember yourself.”

“I can’t,” he’d reply. “That gown. That beautiful, magical gown ….It’s made me sick with lust! I can’t go on without you!”

I actually had the saleswoman put the gown on hold and left the store. When I arrived out on the street, I came to my senses. There was an old man sitting on a piece of cardboard, surrounded by his filthy belongings. He had a cup in front of him where a few people had thrown some coins.

I was about to spend six grand on a dress that I would wear once.

I’m wearing the black dress again. It’s a black dress. It’s been worn twice. It can be worn again. This morning I donated the money I would have spent on the dress to a hunger relief organization.
I know many people are hesitant about giving to charities because they worry that the funds will be mishandled or that too much money is spent on publicity, etc. Here’s a link to a site that ranks philanthropic organizations and gives them grades. You can easily choose the type of charity to which you would like to donate (AIDS, hunger, American or international relief, etc) and then you can put the donation on your credit card. I think every time I am about to make an indulgent and frivolous purchase – even if it’s for a small amount, I’m going to restrain myself and, instead, donate the money to charity. Even if it’s $20, it all adds up.

Now must locate black dress and send to the cleaners.

Pied Beauty
by Gerard Manley Hopkins
Glory be to God for dappled things–
For skies of couple-colour as a brindled cow;
For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;
Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches’ wings;
Landscape plotted and pieced–fold, fallow, and plough;
And all trades, their gear and tackle and trim.
All things counter, original, spare, strange;
Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)
With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;
He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change:
Praise Him.

If you read the New York Times yesterday, you might have noticed the great cover of the magazine section. It was the “Green Issue.”

Here’s a video of the making of the cover:
http://video.nytimes.com/video/2009/04/16/magazine/1194839585868/brain-dance.html

Anyway, the people who form the green brain on that cover are members of Momix, the dance company run by our friends Moses Pendleton and Cynthia Quinn.

Last fall I blogged about Moses and his passion for gardening. His new show, Botanica will be at the Joyce Theater in Manhattan for the entire month of May. Denis and I already have our tickets. If you’re in the New York area, go see the show. It’s beautiful. We saw a couple of rehearsals and we were both mesmerized.

I was thinking about Moses and Cynthia today because I would like to borrow their Jack Russell Terrier, Mojito. We have a rat problem in our barn. Last week we killed a monster rat in a trap and I came to the conclusion that this is no work for a barn cat. A Jack is what we need. Of course, I wanted to run out and immediately adopt one from a Jack Russell rescue organization, but Denis talked me down. So I thought I should borrow one for a few hours and the one that came to mind was Mojito.

Mojito opens the doors to the Pendleton/Quinn house with his paws, and he comes and goes as he pleases. Our Daphne can let herself out by knocking at the door handle with her paw until it releases, but Mojito is the only dog I’ve ever met that can let himself in.. He’s insanely energetic, confident and independent – just like Moses. I have thought that I’d like to do a book someday about interesting people and their animals. It would be a series of profiles of characters like Mojito, with their famous humans sort of mentioned, but not the center of the profile. But somehow, the reader will learn more about the person from what they learn about their pet. Hmmmm. I better refine this a bit before I try to pitch it to a publisher. Anyway, the idea first came to me when I saw Mojito leaping and pirouetting about Moses’s garden last fall. You can really learn a lot about a person by studying the nature of the beasts he or she allows in.