the WingDangDoo

This is for Stamford Talk, who’s asked me to post some pictures from my trip to Cannes. Dear, dear Talk… I regret to tell you that I took a small handful of lame pictures with my iPhone while I was there. It was partly because I was working, partly because it rained so dang much there weren’t a lot of opportunities for quaint pictures of this beautiful seaside resort.

Let’s start with my room. My assistant fought tooth and nail to get me into this room, which somehow seemed more desirable than the newer hotel down the street where everyone else was staying. I’m not sure if the fringe curtain around the king-sized bed was very French or just very slutty. You decide:

More fun after the jump

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I’m back, still shocked by sunset coming so early since I missed the clock change last week. The light was delicious this evening, reminding me that autumn is coming to an end all too soon.

You can kinda sorta see the reflection of some of my office detritus (lamp, picture, mess) if you squint hard enough.

The chateau was beautiful and romantic, with a centuries-old terrace directly on the sea. It was close and warm as the endless deluge of rain kept us within the old walls. I heard Obama’s name in countless conversations in languages I didn’t understand.

After, most of my colleagues gathered in a nearby bar to watch the returns. Wanting access to Kos and interactive maps and Connecticut returns and the man I’ve watched the returns with for the past 16 years (if only by email), I retuned to the broadband comfort of my room.

My 2 a.m. tears were joyous as Sky News called Pennsylvania. Florida was inching its way back into my good graces. Emails, tweets, early returns (showing Chris Shays unemployed at long last!) restored my faith in America. I gave in to the siren’s call of sleep at 3, missing the acceptance speech but confident we finally got it right.

The sea is swirling and crashing in a joyful dance. Everywhere I am greeted with congratulations and handshakes from the Europeans, and happy tears of relief and amazement from the Americans.

My boys know their parents voted for Obama. Some day, they will see beyond the historic moment of electing a black man. They will understand what was at stake in this election. This moment in time will have a legacy. I am grateful and humbled to have had a voice in making a better world for my children.

Have you voted yet?

Go change the world already.

I can hear the pounding of the Meditteranean surf over the white noise of the incessant rain. I have a night of work ahead of me (not hard work, mind you - a cocktail party, then a celebration at a chateau with a French wines theme) followed by a long night of fretting over election returns from afar. I should soon be changing back into my dress, my boots, my raincoat. But the pull of the warm featherbed and the non-stop TV coverage and the internet and the moment I am yearning for is holding me here.

I didn’t sleep well last night, and as a result I can tell you that this poor Sky News correspondent who was in the dark 12 hours ago interviewing people in Times Square is still there. He just mentioned it’s going to be an awful long night. I couldn’t agree more.

This is my third stay at the Heathrow Hilton, and my second time on the way over. Once I stayed here on the way home after an twelve day death march through Europe with a broken rib. Let’s just say I didn’t win many friends that trip.

Regardless, after a long-assed flight over with and older and somewhat chubby American man in front of me leaning so far back in his chair that he was practically in my lap for the better part of seven hours, here I am.  Oscar’s in the lobby is far more appealing than you might think. Pleasing lighting, good beer on tap (tonight I’m sampling a Boddington’s), and a surprisingly decent menu. For a HIlton.  My dining adventure this evening is hicken tikka masala, which is clearly shorthand for “chicken breast tooped with a dash or coriander, a bit of yogurt, and plenty of Campbell’s condensed tomato soup.”

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Did you ever decide, before going on a high-visibility business trip to France, that you wanted to feel really chic and great about yourself? Did you ever then book a hair appointment for 36 hours before getting on the plane, and then for some reason think copper highlights sounded like a good idea? Heck, since your son has hair the color of a brand new, shiny penny… shouldn’t copper highlights look great on your brown hair?

Did you ever end up with chunky streaks of red, strongly resembling the yarn on top of Raggedy Ann’s head? Or, to be more accurate, the exact same color as the color of the bush in your back yard you’d been prattling on about all week?

Do you know what really fixes the problem?

Scissors.

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It’s odd to vote and not get the sticker.

(And that guy? Who sued because the sticker ruined his suede jacket? Not only is he a local - the drama unfolded at my very own polling place. And with that, you’ve fulfilled your quota of Patty trivia for the day).

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Hands down, these bushes are my favorite part of our yard in the fall.

Nearly at their peak of color, the leaves will be almost gone when I return next week.

More after the jump. But first, take a moment to commend me. It took chutzpah to name a blog post firebush.

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Hey, I know it ain’t Cannes, but I like this picture. If you look closely enough, I bet you can see the debris falling from Trump.

This is a call to my Stamford peeps.  Who gets your three votes for the Board of Education?

I’m ready to mail in my absentee ballot, but I am still struggling a bit on this final topic. I make no secret of how much I despise the current Board, and of the two incumbents I can only imagine voting for Julia Wade. But she frankly hasn’t earned my vote yet, and I think it’s time for three new members on the board. Incumbents be gone.

I didn’t make it to any of the candidate forums. I still harbor a lot of resentment about the current Board’s obsession (thwarted! HA!) with closing my kids’ elementary school.  After last year’s endless parade of pointless meetings, I couldn’t quite muster the enthusiasm to attend a candidate forum when I could much better spend those hours polishing my bitterness in the comfort of my own home.

With The Advocate’s spotty reporting and The Stamford Times’ limited (but good) articles on the topic, I feel a bit underinformed. The wasteland of Topix only sheds limited light on the subject. Voting by party is out of the question here, because the Democrat / Republican divide is irrelevant to me on this issue. In fact it’s my own party’s candidates who have disappointed me the most on the Board.

Maybe if I put my hatred aside for a while, you can tell me which three candidates will get your vote this year, and why. I want to mail my ballot in the next few days and I would really welcome any and all opinions. Especially the bitter-but-informed ones.

If you’d rather not publicly state your opinion, please email me. wing dang doo (all one word) at g mail dot you-know-where.

I’ll be away next week.

I absolutely adore Cannes and I count myself lucky for traveling there on business every year or so.  But the prospect of being out of the country for the presidential election is making me increasingly anxious.

I’ll be sending in my ballot this week. I’m not anxious about making my choices, I’m not anxious about change. I think it comes down to a twinge of sadness. We’re on the cusp of the most important election of my life and I won’t be here to celebrate.

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