Tina Fey and I chose the exact same instant to arrive at the Paley Center for "Hey Dummies: An Evening With the 30 Rock Writers," but she had a much better ride and smoother hair. Lest she make eye contact and catch me in a The-Queen-and-Hilary-Mantel moment of naked, cannibalistic gawpery, I instinctively whipped around and started pretending to text as a small throng of kind, nervous young women in fingerless gloves pressed forward with their smartphones, saying Tina, Tina! as loudly as they dared, which was never as loud as the voice you would ideally use in a business meeting, were you to find yourself in one.
One of my sons told me recently that I had not taken enough interest in him before he was seven. My reply was that if I had known as much as I do now, I should not have had him at all.
There's a new biography of Lady Nancy Astor (Viscountess Astor?), which the excellent Emma Garman reviews for The Daily Beast. Nancy's wearing an incredible dress on the cover, if that swings you one way or the other.
Wow. I do not know if I can accurately describe what I saw just now, but I will try.
First I heard yelling in the street, which is pretty common, so I didn't pay much attention, but then certain words began to register — "oh my god are you SERIOUS … oh my god WILLIAMSBURG," etc. (I do not live in Williamsburg) — but I still figured it was just a brief cab scuffle. Things went quiet for a while, then, a couple minutes later, "Are you Arecibo? ARE. YOU. ARECIBO?" I think I missed a sentence or two at this point, but what eventually drew me to the window [...]