Whether you’re Irish in ethnicity or simply in spirit, I wish you a wonderful day filled with joy, friendship, and fields o’ glorious green.
Hope
Tag: Irish pubs
Weekend Wrap-Up
I’m coming off a solid weekend–seriously solid. Even better, it started early, on Thursday when I met up with fellow Harlequin author Wendy Etherington for drinks and then a Nascar-sponsored concert at the Hard Rock. Wendy writes for Harlequin’s Nascar-themed series, and she rolled into town to take part in the Nascar cross-promotional festivities, including a book signing. What I know about Nascar, about racing period, could fit into a thimble with room to spare. Fortunately for me Wendy is a fab teacher, and I’m a quick study. And having music mega-star Gavin DeGraw play a private concert for Nascar royalty and well, us in the Hard Rock’s auditorium while we stood stageside was well, way cool.
Next stop on the Fun Train: Kennedy’s, an iconic Midtown Irish pub and restaurant, for Romance Writers of America/NYC’s annual holiday brunch. Over eggs and mimosas, I caught up with Scandalous Woman and outgoing RWA/NYC prez, Elizabeth Kerri Mahon, Dee Davis, and others, including one member’s adorable four-month old baby, Jack.
A quick refresh, including “costume” change, and then it was back out to the Upper West Side’s Dive Bar for bookseller buddy, Stacey Agdern’s birthday. The putin–a heap of fries layered with gravy and topped with lots of gloppy good melted cheese–was delish and the cosmo wasn’t bad, either.
I departed the Dive Bar with the Rebels of Romance, Liz Maverick and Marianne Mancusi amidst the season’s first snow. Even wearing open-toed platform pumps–what was I thinking?–I found myself getting caught up in Liz’s winter wonderland enthusiasm. Still, by the time we reached our next stop, The Brass Monkey in the uber trendy Meatpacking District, I was more than happy to settle inside, have a drink, and thaw.
Soon it was time to move on again to the signature event of the night, The Bowie Ball at Santos Party House in Tribeca. Named after glitter rock legend David Bowie, the ball is an homage to the 1980’s music and fashion scene. Between sets of classic 80’s dance tunes, we took in the stage show where drag queens, retro bands, and burlesque dancers literally rocked the house.
Today, Sunday, I dialed it down a notch and attended the New York Public Library’s holiday open house. The library is always lovely, but decked out in holiday splendor it was positively breathtaking. Face painting, puppet show, stilt walkers, and costumed actors kept kids of all ages thoroughly entertained. Music provided by groups such as the Brooklyn Youth Chorus and a Santa suited brass band put us all in the holiday spirit.
On the way home, I squeezed in some not-so-early Christmas shopping and then stopped in at one of my favorite restaurants for a glass of vino and a bowl of lobster bisque. Finally it was home again where hungry cats and neglected fictional characters awaited me.
What cool stuff did you do this weekend?
Merry merry, happy happy,
Hope
Shaken, Not Stirred
I’m deep “in the soup” as my writer buddy, Liz Maverick is fond of saying, so immersed in my work-in-progress that if it weren’t for the occasional vocal intervention of hungry cats, I’m not sure I’d register the time of day.
Still, you know what “they” say about all work and no play. In this case, it makes Hope a dull girl and well, when you’re a writer of romance fiction and a purveyor of Happily Ever Afters, you can’t have that.
I took time out this Friday to meet friends for the opening of the new James Bond flick, Quantum of Solace, and I am ever so glad I did. First off, though, I have to cop to the need to eat a little crow. Before seeing the film, I had doubts, vocally expressed doubts, about Daniel Craig pulling off the classic role of Fleming’s uber suave British secret agent. Even though I’m a fan of the film series, I missed out on seeing the 2006 prequel, Casino Royale, Craig’s debut in the role. Not to cast aspersions on Mr. Craig’s acting abilities and well, obvious attributes, but he’s no Remington Steele, and make fun of me if you will, but I really liked Pierce Brosnan in the role. And Craig is blond, which seemed like it might work against the character’s edgy, dark vibe.
After seeing the film, I have to concede that the critics are right on the money this time. Daniel Craig is the penultimate James Bond, at least since Sean Connery passed on the revolver. As for edgy and dark, well, his performance may give new meaning to those words. I think he may be the most tortured Bond yet–and anyone who’s read my Men of Roxbury House trilogy books: Vanquished, Enslaved or Untamed knows I go for tortured heroes in a big way.
Afterward, we decamped to an Irish pub around the corner where we tucked into a booth, ordered pints and pub grub, and settled in for a recap. Those shoulders, that chest, those burning blue eyes, those oh so chiseled if somewhat implacable features…Oh yeah, and the movie was really good, too.
Will Daniel Craig be the prototype for the hero of a future Hope Tarr novel? I’d say it’s a strong bet he will. An historical, I’m thinking, and yes, definitely British-set.
Okay, enough about me and my new Daniel Craig obsession. Anybody else do anything cool this weekend?
Hope