This year I have decided that I will try to do all of my Christmas shopping in our area, at privately owned shops, rather than at giant chain stores.  This has been easy enough while shopping for the daughter, mother, sister, nieces, and anything with two x chromosomes and a complete disaster while shopping for the husband, brother, son, etc. Men are just impossible to shop for.  They hate to shop and hate when women shop for them.  How my husband and son manage to always be clothed is a mystery to me.  So, I have turned to the internet in my quest for something, anything for the guys.

Some of you may remember a very unfortunate incident I had internet shopping over the summer. Well, today wasn’t much better.  Don’t ever google men’s fashion.  You could end up here:

That model is just not getting paid enough.  Nor is this one:

I am thinking of getting my son that helmet.  I’m sure that’s what all the college boys are wearing.  Also am considering this very cute top for Denis:

Shhhhhh! Don’t tell!

Some of you know my camera travails of recent months. Well, at the airport on Sunday, as I reached into my giant carry-on satchel for passports, etc. my new-ish camera leapt from the bottom of the bag in an apparent last bid for freedom before we boarded, and it landed on the hard floor, spinning crazily beneath the feet of our annoyed fellow travelers.  The flash was destroyed.  So now, all the indoor and nighttime photos you see will either, a)suck or, b) have been taken by my daughter Dev.

Yesterday, we walked and shopped.  It was raining but just a little and very mild.

Then last night, we went out to dinner.  Devin and I got a little dressed up.  The guys, not so much

We ate here:

Sorry, no flash.  It was called Le Bistroit St. Honore, and oh my dear Lord, it was delicious!  The family wouldn’t allow me to take photos of the escargots, salads, steak frites and lamb stew that we devoured.

On the way home we saw these interesting wigs displayed in a window:

This, of course, was my favorite:

Yes, the pony bouffant was made completely our of human hair!  Tres chic!

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?

Sorry I’ve been so quiet. I’ve been writing, so there’s nothing to report of interest. Just writing away.

We’ve been enjoying the kids so much that we’ve decided to bring them to LA with us for the Golden Globes next weekend. What am I wearing? THE EXACT SAME DRESS I WORE TO THE EMMYS! I know, aren’t I wildly daring? I’m doing this because a) I really like the dress, b) It seems wasteful to buy a gown and then just wear it once and c) I’m too busy with book to shop. It’s fine right? Nobody will even notice

Actually, I’ve just looked up images of red carpet events and realize I could possibly wear this dress, which I wore to the GGs in 2002:

I know it’s hard to see. I don’t know how to enlarge the image.

It’s all in the spirit of recycling during these hard times (and the spirit of laziness, I really can’t be bothered to shop).

What do you think?

Here’s a helpful fashion tip for the ladies: When tending to your barn animals, make sure you look your best, just in case your charming Irish blacksmith should show up a little earlier than announced. I recommend you try to duplicate the smart outfit I wore this very morning when farrier Eammon Gillespie arrived:

The oversized barncoat/duster provides a delightful sense of mystery to a woman. The smudges of mysterious substance on its surface (wormer? manure) only serves to add to its tantalizing appeal. I chose the fashion forward pink hostess pajama because of it’s wonderful fit, offering just a peek of flesh between its hem and those sexy striped ankle socks. Also, I like to add a sense of fun, when I’m expecting guests. Notice how my slippers are not only two different styles, but also BOTH belong to the right foot!

Notice how I spared you my look from the neck up? Poor Eammon, not only was I dressed like a mental patient when he arrived, but my hair was sticking straight out like a hag’s and I was talking to my horse Gabriel. I don’t say things to my horses like, “Good boy,” or “Nice horsey.” I was saying, “If I drive in and out of the city today, I’ll only have to drive back in tomorrow. I really should stay the night …” Then I noticed that Eamonn was standing in the aisle. Of course, he greeted me with his great Irish brogue, as if nothing was in the least bit unusual. I suppose they have witches in Ireland too.

Well, although I didn’t go to Fashion Rocks last night, I got to hear all sorts of backstage gossip from Denis and Devin and then I went online to see some photos and I’m going to try to see if I can put them here without having to pay some kind of licensing fee.

Wow, it works. Okay, I know he’s my husband, and I’m biased, but the man cleans up good. I love the way he looks in a suit. I guess he had to change suits every time he came onstage. Here he is backstage with Mary J. Blige:

Look at the person in the upper right corner of the photo who is getting an eyeful of either my husband’s or Ms. Blige’s bum.
And here is something so disturbing that I’m going to hide it from view for those of you who have just finished eating or have a heart condition of some sort. Seriously, viewer discretion is advised. If you think you can take it, click below.

View image

You’ll have to watch the show to find out why he’s wearing that. It’s on September 9th, at 9:00 on CBS.

I have spent the past 24 hours just steeped in inspiration for my new book. So today, I awoke with the dawn and decided I would spend all morning writing.

I had plans to meet my friend Dani for coffee at 2:30, so I took a shower and put on a cute outfit (which I rarely do in the country) and donned a pair of adorable Marni flats that I bought at a 75% off sale at Louis in Boston over the summer. I knew that only Dani, who is very stylish, would appreciate the cunning little flats, as, honestly, to the untrained eye, they look like a tattered pair of canvas slippers.

I fed the dogs and walked them up to the barn to feed the horses. There I found my poor old Gabriel lying stretched flat out in his paddock, right outside his stall! I know some of my readers are horse people and they will understand how horrifying it is to see a horse lying, flat out, with his head on the ground, groaning. Gabriel had decided to roll next to one of the columns that supports the overhang of our barn roof. When he rolled he got his forelegs on one side of the column and his hind legs on the other side.

It’s hard to explain, but it’s called being “cast” when a horse gets stuck lying down and it’s very dangerous. In 20 years, Gabriel has never been cast, and this summer it has happened to him twice. The dogs and I encouraged him to try, once again, to get up, but he was so exhausted and he was starting to scrape his legs on the column.

So, I ran and got a lunge line (long rope) and sort of lassoed his hind fetlock (horse ankle). He was thrashing so much I was afraid he’d kick me accidentally if I got too close. Then I managed to pull the top leg forward enough to clear it of the post. Once that leg was free, he was able to release the other and he leaped to his feet and though I feared he was in shock from exhaustion, the blessed horse walked quite briskly into his stall and had a nice long drink of water.

I cleaned him up and fed him his breakfast and that’s when I saw that my delightful little flats were caked in mud and manure. It rained last night so there was actually mud and manure inside the flats and oozing between my toes. See, this is why I never bother with nice clothes in the country.

After I sorted Gabriel out I got caught up in all sorts of other barn chores and it’s now the afternoon and I haven’t written a word (except this).

Tomorrow, BACK TO THE BOOK!

It’s that time of year again. I must find myself a dress to wear to an awards show. An awards show with a red carpet. A show with a red carpet along which flocks of beautiful young starlets, models and actresses will daintily tiptoe in their Manolos and their Jimmy Choos, their perfect bodies draped in custom-designed finery, adorned with diamonds and carrying gem-encrusted clutches. Their lithe muscles will be toned to within an inch of perfection. Long of lash and leg., they will smile and wave; their hair swept up into elaborately glamorous cascades of lusciousness, their skin glowing with youth.

I, on the other hand, dear internet, have just had another birthday. It’s the birthday that first makes you closer to fifty than forty. And, I confess that I’ve let myself go a little bit since my book publicity tour. When people stopped taking my picture, I stopped running on that stupid treadmill. And then the summer came with its pies and fried clams and corn on the cob and ice cream and lots of sitting around. So I gained a few. I’m in radio now, I told myself, as I shoveled in the potato salad. I’m a writer who lives in the country, where it’s normal to look robust and healthy, I promised myself as I watched the butter melt into all those delightful nooks and crannys on my Thomas’s.

So today I must go shop for a dress that will somehow lead the eye away from my drooping eyelids, from my flabby upper arms and fleshy midsection. It must lead the eye directly to my legs, which it’s true, are the last to go. My legs look pretty good, I have to say. So I’m thinking of wearing a knee length dress instead of a gown to the Emmys. Why should I wear a gown, I’m not nominated for anything. I mean, who do I think I am, Cate Blanchette? A dress is what I’m thinking.

Also, had this brilliant idea of secretly bringing my recording equipment and interviewing the celebs while we’re waiting Denis’s turn to be interviewed. Then I’ll work out some sort of live-feed setup with my blog. So, while I’m standing next to Julia-Louise Dreyfuss, waiting for Ryan Seacrest to interview her and then my husband, I’ll chat her up about her dress and stuff and you’ll all be able to hear it here first! Denis, unfortunately, has forbade me to do this. “If you get kicked out of the Emmy’s,” he said, “you’re on your own.” I am allowed to take pictures, though.

Some of you might recall that two weeks ago there was a little mix-up and although I had announced that my IN HOUSE Radio Interview with Richard Lambertson and John Truex was going to air that weekend, it did not air. This was due to a mistake that I am now humble enough to admit was partially my fault. There was some miscommunication about which show should air when.

Anyway, now we’re running like a finely tuned instrument and the Lambertson/Truex show will run tomorrow, August 23rd at 2:00 PM. Again, if you’re in Northwestern Connecticut, you can hear it as it’s broadcast live by listeing to WHDD 91.9 FM on your radio. If you live anywhere else in the world, you can still hear it broadcast live by going to the WHDD 91.9 FM site and clicking “Listen Live.” Otherwise, you can go to my IN HOUSE radio page, here, and listen to it anytime afterword.

You’re going to love this show. First, these men are charming, funny and smart. Their stunning home is being featured in an upcoming issue of ELLE Decor and you’ll feel like you’re sitting right there in their beautiful sunroom with us. So tune in!

Well, it’s Saturday again, which means that it’s time for another episode of my radio show, IN HOUSE. If you’re in Northwestern Connecticut you may tune it to WHDD 91.9FM at 2:00 to hear it broadcast. If you’re in other parts of the world, you can still hear it at 2:00 by going here and clicking “Listen Live” at 2:00. Otherwise, you may go here, any time after the broadcast to hear the podcast on my website.

This week’s interview is with Richard Lambertson and John Truex, the cofounders and owners of LAMBERTSON/TRUEX, the luxury accessories company that makes beautiful handbags, wallets, shoes, etc.. Richard owns a beautiful shop in Warren, CT called PRIVET, and while visiting the shop one day, I happened to see, spread out upon a gorgeous French antique table, a photo layout of their home that was for an upcoming feature of ELLE Decor magazine. I immediately asked Richard if I could interview him for my show, because I am very interested in how two stylish and design-minded people could collaborate on something like a home interior – and not want to throttle each other to death somewhere along the way.

Richard, John and I met in their beautiful old stone house and sipped iced green tea and talked about relationships, design, work, rest and what to do when your partner wants to hang a portrait of Yaz above the fireplace. So join us!