My voice trembles for a moment. Now that I have told my husband about the painting, I passed the fork in the road. There’s no turning back. He wants to know where his new piece of art is. The excitement in his eyes makes my heart flicker. I feel it too. But my adrenaline rush is coming from the shift in our power dynamic. Suddenly I’m in control.
I managed to do something so unexpected earlier today. The realization makes me heady. I laugh, taking another sip of pink champagne. Could my insecurities that consumed my life from gestational diabetes vanish just as quickly as the bubbles in my glass? The confidence I felt as my old self was returning.
My. Jasper shifts uncomfortably in his chair. I grasp his hand and slowly begin to explain. Midway through my story, it dawns on Jasper that he might not be getting the painting for Christmas. I’d like to think either guilt or regret is the reason why his tongue is tied. I’m explaining to him how I found a lonely man on the street, a stranger, who would take the painting I bought for free. The color drains from his face. Earlier today, I took a photo with the man, assuming I would rub it in his face at this point in the story, but it’s unnecessary. Jasper feels the pain he caused me. His jaw is stiff for a second, then it relaxes.
Whether I ever decide to tell him that I saw him with her at the restaurant doesn’t matter. Jasper knows I know. He tightens his grip on my hand, looks deep into my eyes. First, he apologizes to me. Then he says,
“I don’t need another painting.” Huh? My husband doesn’t need another painting is the last thing I expect to hear. “I already have a masterpiece. It’s sitting right in front of me.”
My eyes fill with tears. My throat is choking with sadness and fear and regret and what feels an awful lot like hope, too.
Now, Jasper is looking at me like he hasn’t seen me in years. He sees the fierceness that he first fell in love with. The woman was so opinionated before slowly succumbing to the idea of what she thought Jasper wanted his wife to be. Searching my husband’s hazel eyes, I see my reflection. I found myself again this Christmas.
TO BE CONTINUED …
Click HERE for Pink Champagne Christmas Story Part 1
Click HERE for Pink Champagne Christmas Story Part 2
Click HEREfor Pink Champagne Christmas Story Part 3
Click HERE for Pink Champagne Christmas Story Part 4
Click HERE for Pink Champagne Christmas Story Part 5
Click HERE for Pink Champagne Christmas Story Part 6
Click HERE for Pink Champagne Christmas Story Part 7
Click HERE for Pink Champagne Christmas Story Part 8
Click HEREfor Pink Champagne Christmas Story Part 9
Divabetic Holiday Playlist: Gary Barlow’s super festive song, “How Christmas Is Supposed To Be” featuring Sheridan Smith. Gary told The Sun: “Everyone loves Sheridan, don’t they? She’s a great ball of energy and a great laugh. She’s just wonderful — and is a great actress and singer.
“We met in the wings of the Blackpool Opera House last year while waiting to go on for the Royal Variety Performance. She just said: ‘I’m a big fan, will you take my number and keep in touch?’
“So we swapped numbers and then when I wrote How Christmas Is Supposed To Be last year, I just thought of her immediately.
The song, How Christmas Is Supposed To Be, is about a couple who have a falling-out, they can’t do things right, it looks like they might split up.
The Take That star said of a new album The Dream of Christmas, “We were all trying to make Christmas feel good last year.
“It was a really hard Christmas for so many because of the scenario we all found ourselves in. So to try and make things a bit special, I started writing these songs
It’s now or never. Should I tell my husband, Jasper what I did earlier today to save our marriage or not? The successful and wealthy chanteuse Dominique Deveraux confronting Alexis Carrington on the TV show, Dynasty would probably be calm, relaxed, and collected in my situation, but I’m a basket case. Hopefully, my inner Diahann Carroll, with her alluring elegance, glamour, and grace that made her a force to be reckoned with, will inspire me.
Just as I think a bit of liquid courage would help my situation, my favorite cocktail, pink champagne, appears in front of me thanks to our waiter. It’s the perfect cocktail for the best time of the year. Something about the fabulous pink color and all those tiny little bubbles feels like the holidays to me. What could be better than drinking a glass filled with glitter? And let’s not forget, it contains fewer calories than wine! Red or white wine has between 135 and 200 calories, a glass of pink champagne clocks in at only 95.
Jasper must have ordered my cocktail for me before I arrived. The thoughtfulness of his gesture makes me melt inside. He knows me, my likes, my dislikes, my interests, my passions, my moods, and my heart. Emotions surge inside of me. The ice around my heart begins to thaw. I can’t help feeling that Jasper is deliberately trying to woo me.
My husband’s eyes drink me in as I take a sip. I ask Jasper about his day. He seems a bit flustered at first, grasping for words before the smooth tenor of his voice returns. He doesn’t mention being at the restaurant earlier or with a woman, which doesn’t surprise me. Jasper doesn’t like to cause a scene in public. He’ll do anything to avoid it. Anytime our kids would cry in public when they were younger, Jasper moved mountains and earth to get us somewhere private as quickly as possible. He might be one of New York’s most successful ligators in court, but at home, he shies away from confrontation. I guess I do too. After all, I have never mentioned how I really feel about his early morning departures and late arrivals.
It’s actually a relief that Jasper doesn’t mention his lunch date to me. On the one hand, it means he didn’t see the children or me earlier, which means my surprise is still a surprise. But, on the other hand, if I can be so bold, his date doesn’t warrant a mention, which means we may not have a confrontation after all. Now perhaps that’s hope talking, but I am getting a strange feeling that my husband chooses me. He’s leaning forward in his chair, looking directly into my eyes and attentively listening to every word from my lips. If I believed in paranormal and mythical things, I’d say a time machine has sent us back to our first Christmas Eve together. Back then, we were so in love with each other that nothing else in the world mattered to us. We couldn’t keep our hands off each other.
While I take another sip of my pink champagne, Jasper shares the astronomical amount of money his client received in a settlement he negotiated today. Jasper talks with his hands as he describes his closing argument to the judge. I’m caught off guard by how my husband is talking to me. He’s not condensing, not cross or irritated. In fact, he seems determined for me to understand him as if my opinion truly matters. When I offer my praise, he seems genuinely grateful to be acknowledged.
His voice cracks when he mentions that he’s hiring a new assistant. I’m a bit surprised because I thought he loved his assistant, Monique. Monique always seems to know exactly what my husband needs before he’s able to tell her. It doesn’t matter if it’s a client file, a phone number, an internal memo, or even a take-out menu from a nearby restaurant. She’s always one step ahead of him. Although I have only met her once, I like Monique immensely. Jasper tells me that Monique left three months ago to be closer to her aging father. Apparently, she works for a law firm in her hometown, down South. I’m surprised I didn’t know sooner. Then again, we’ve said more to each other in the last thirty minutes than we have in the past three months.
I practically spill my pink champagne when Jasper asks me if I would consider coming to the office and helping him out until he finds a replacement. A wide smile spreads across my face. Jasper hasn’t asked for my help since he started practicing law. He couldn’t afford to hire anyone back then, so I readily agreed to be his assistant. I actually enjoyed the work. We were so close back then, working together as a team. My husband returns my smile when he hears my response. I agree with his request. He’s elated.
What’s going on here? Jasper is looking at me like I’m the only person in the woman. Now, I’m in a quandary about what to do. Do I go through with my plan? Do I tell him why I didn’t buy him a Christmas gift? Or do I make an excuse and pretend I forgot it at home?
TO BE CONTINUED …
Click HERE for Pink Champagne Christmas Story Part 1
Click HERE for Pink Champagne Christmas Story Part 2
Click HEREfor Pink Champagne Christmas Story Part 3
Click HERE for Pink Champagne Christmas Story Part 4
Click HERE for Pink Champagne Christmas Story Part 5
Click HERE for Pink Champagne Christmas Story Part 6
Click HERE for Pink Champagne Christmas Story Part 7
Divabetic Holiday Playlist: We’re loving Lady A’s rendition of Paul McCartney’s iconic song, “Wonderful Christmastime”. Lady A decided to revamp their 12-track On This Winter’s Night Christmas album from 2012. According to Canadian actor Ryan George, it’s actually “about friends practicing witchcraft but then someone walks in and they have to suddenly play it cool.”
The Holidays are full of surprises— especially after Mr. Divabetic gets a new job as the pastry chef at the St. Nicholas Nursing Home nestled in a cozy Christmas Village. But adjusting to life in a Christmas Village is not all sugarplums and candy canes. Especially when a cantankerous resident, a real-life Ebenezer Scrooge, named Mr. Pincher almost dies——shortly after eating one of Max’s peanut butter swirl brownies. Despite all of the ingredients for danger, Mr. Divabetic along with our team of amateur sleuths and his overly protective mother — set out to find the real culprit in the hopes that his name isn’t on a lethal naughty list.
Our story was inspired by Kevin Houdeshell’s tragic true-life story. Thanks to the Houdeshell family for their advocacy efforts on behalf of the Emergency Insulin Act of 2019 and the emergency prescription refill legislation. Known as Kevin’s or Howdy’s Law, it allows pharmacists to dispense an emergency supply of a chronic maintenance medication if the doctor cannot be reached – a common-sense act that could save a life.
Starring Max ‘Mr. Divabetic’ Szadek, USA Best Selling Author Tonya Kappes, Mama Rose Marie, Patricia Addie Gentle, Terri Seidman, MaryAnn Nicolay, Trisha Artman, Catherine Schuller, Chef Robert Lewis, Seveda Williams, and Wendy Radford. Special thanks to the Houdeshell family, and Pharmacist Mandy Reece. Original music by Ivan Hampden Jr., Celine Dion’s vocals courtesy of SONY Music. Produced by Leisa Chester Weir.
In the spirit of Scrooge’s awakening at the end of Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol, we encourage you to honor Christmas in your heart by living in the Past, The Present, and the Future. Try to embrace the Spirits of all Three and the lessons that they teach.
I practically jump out of my skin at the sound of the fire snap and crackle in the Champagne Bar’s fireplace.
Just as you could imagine, the Plaza Hotel is beautifully decorated for the holidays. Plaid ribboned garlands, pine-scented wreaths, and vibrant red poinsettias adorn the gleaming entryways. It feels like a tuxedo-clad Cary Grant with Audrey Hepburn on his arm might appear at any minute, carrying a glass of champagne to toast the holidays.
If I wasn’t so on edge about meeting Jasper, I’d stop and snap photos of the decorations. But all day long, I’ve had self-doubt and worry as my companions as I cross off the steps of my plan. Looking at radiant shades of red poinsettias, I feel my heartbeat grow stronger. To think that it took seeing another woman in my husband’s arms to realize that what I want for Christmas is just what I have. I love my life, my children, and our home. Yes, I love my husband.
I can’t forget Jasper for what he did earlier today. But I am prepared to forgive him. Jasper stood by me in the darkest moments of my pregnancy. He had lifted me up, believed in me, and supported me when I doubted myself. My gestational diabetes created a storm inside of me. My erratic blood sugar levels wore me down. I felt like I was at war with my body. Rescuing my children and delivering them to safety consumed my life. So I closed my heart to Jasper, trying to protect the little lives inside me.
I’ve got to trust that Jasper can do that again if I let him back into my life.
The dining room feels like a cozy den in a Charleston mansion with high gloss hardwood floors, crisp linen, and heirloom silver vases and tableware. Everything is just like I remember when Jasper and I were last here. How long has it been? Nine years? Eight years? Taking care of two babies in diapers can certainly derail the romance in your married life.
I look across the candle-lit room and spot Jasper. He’s dressed in a beautiful navy blue Italian wool suit, pale pink dress shirt, and striped tie. My husband is a sight for sore eyes. Jasper looks magnificent. Not only does he fit into the lush surroundings, but Jasper looks like he owns the place! I see other diners stealing glances at him with the same envy and admiration we had when we gazed across the dining room at others all those years ago. I catch my breath again. Finally, it dawns on me that Jasper and I have achieved the life we dreamed of all those years ago. Actually, our lives are so much better than we could ever have imagined.
As I cross the room, I can tell my husband approves of my choice of outfits from the look in his eyes. The blood, sweat, tears, and tears it took to put myself tonight seem to pay off. My husband locks his gaze on me, drinks me in, and smiles. My chestnut hair is curled in soft waves, and my makeup looks effortlessly alluring. He gives me a quick kiss on the cheek next and then sits back down. Jasper’s eyes rest on my strand of pearls.
Jasper jumps up to pull my chair out of me before sitting down. There’s a beautifully wrapped present next to my place setting. I have a pit in my stomach. Doubt begins to rear its ugly head as I question my decision to not bring a gift for Jasper. Is my plan going to work? Will this Christmas Eve lead us to more beautiful memories of Christmas, or will I forever be looking back at last Christmas wishing with regret?
TO BE CONTINUED …
Click HERE for Pink Champagne Christmas Story Part 1
Click HERE for Pink Champagne Christmas Story Part 2
Click HEREfor Pink Champagne Christmas Story Part 3
Click HERE for Pink Champagne Christmas Story Part 4
Click HERE for Pink Champagne Christmas Story Part 5
Click HERE for Pink Champagne Christmas Story Part 6
It sounds like I’m not the only person thinking and writing Christmas break-up songs this year. Kelly Clarkson has unleashed the beast this holiday season with a new Christmas album, When Christmas Comes Around, featuring not one, not two, but at three Christmas break-up songs, not counting her rendition of Wham’s Last Christmas. Her Merry Christmas Baby is the ultimate tinsel-laced blow-off holiday tune. You go, girl!
“Last chance,” says the Christie’s auctioneer before banging her gavel. I’ve been unsure of myself since the moment I arrived. Why did I even come here? Two hours of intense bidding wars have done nothing to calm my nerves. My stomach is in knots. Every time I’m about to make a bid, someone else lifts their paddle or one of the staff members on the phone with overseas bidders makes a bid. By the time I look around to see who is bidding, the piece has already been sold.
I can’t believe the astronomical amount of money people are spending. Nothing has sold under five million dollars. No one seems to bat an eye about raising the bid by a half-million dollars either. I must be crazy. What on earth was I thinking? A dull headache takes hold of my medulla. I try to take a deep breath to stop the scene in the restaurant from playing over and over and over again in my mind. Unfortunately for the last three hours, it’s been on repeat just like ‘The Christmas Story’ on TBS on Christmas Day. My kids love that movie. With each pound of the gavel, I see the flash of the photographer’s camera capture my husband kiss that woman in a lovely embrace.
The auctioneer’s voice shocks me back into reality. Suddenly, I’m done letting my reactions – the fear, the hurt, and the panic – control me. If I deserve love and passion, then indeed I have the strength to fight for it. I quickly throw my paddle up and make the final bid. I briefly remember Rudolfo pointing it out in the catalog and telling me that my husband will love it. “Sold. Thank you all for your bids,” says the auctioneer with a wink to me. I just bought my first major piece of artwork. My heart leaps at the sound of his words. I can imagine Jasper feeling the same way I do right now. The sense of conquest. The way everyone in the room turns to acknowledge you. The envy in their eyes slowly fades as they silently nod their head to you in approval. The victory is all mine. It’s exhilarating!
After I collect myself, Rudolfo escorts me downstairs to pay for and pick up my item near the main lobby. Before I leave, I make a small request. “Can you gift wrap it for me?” A wide grin spreads across Rudolfo’s face in silent acknowledgment as he informs his staff to carry out my request. No one asks me who my purchase is for – they know I brought it for my husband. A few moments later, I walk out the gleaming doors with a masterpiece wrapped Christmas paper under my arm, and jump in an Uber.
In less than two hours I’m meeting my husband, Jasper. I’m taking a huge chance at what I’m about to do. There’s no guarantee Jasper will have a change of heart. But if I don’t make a bold move on Christmas Eve, then my marriage won’t survive. Can a glass of pink champagne save us?
TO BE CONTINUED …
Click HERE for Pink Champagne Christmas Story Part 1
Click HERE for Pink Champagne Christmas Story Part 2
Click HEREfor Pink Champagne Christmas Story Part 3
Click HERE for Pink Champagne Christmas Story Part 4
Click HERE for Pink Champagne Christmas Story Part 5
I’m in Nashville, TN for work this weekend so I’ve been listening to more than my fair share of Country Music. In fact, I just got back to my hotel room after visiting the Country Hall Of Fame Museum. It was amazing! American singer and songwriter Thomas Rhett has released five studio albums but his Christmas song caught my ear. Enjoy!
I make a beeline for Jasper’s Christie’s catalog as soon as the kids and I get home from the city. I got the idea to buy something for Jasper in the car as the twins were talking about what they wanted from Santa. I knew instantly that something from the Cox Collection auction was at the top of Jasper’s list. According to Jasper, it’s one of the most significant American collections ever appearing on the market. Masterpieces by Cézanne and Van Gogh will be on sale. This isn’t the area of my expertise, but I know what I need to do. I grab the catalog, tell my mother I have to run an errand and dash out the door before anyone can stop me.
I let myself wallow in the backseat of an Uber as I listen to Luther Vandross’s Every Year, Every Christmas song on the radio. Something in the lyrics makes me realize it takes two people to ruin a relationship. My eyes start painting pictures with the snow falling outside. I open my window to catch one before it hits the ground. If I can save just one, then maybe I can save my relationship as well.
When the cab abruptly stops, the weight is back, pressing on my chest. The scene at the restaurant keeps playing over and over again in my mind. I can’t seem to erase it. A few deep breaths later, I convince myself I’m doing the right thing. I don’t want a bigger family. The one I have is perfect. I figured that much out in the cab.
My urgency propels me through the Art Deco-style gleaming front doors of the Christie’s Auction House in Rockefeller Center in New York City. To say I’m a bit intimidated would be an understatement. This establishment sells roughly $7 billion worth of art, jewelry, and luxury goods a year. But, thankfully, the atmosphere I find is much more casual than I expected.
After dodging a few staff members’ prying questions about my husband and his whereabouts, I tell them that I am attending today’s auction in his place. Whether or not the staff buys my made-up story doesn’t matter. My husband’s black American Express card’s ridiculous high credit limit certainly makes up for any lingering doubts.
A senior sales consultant named Rudolfo takes me under his wing and points me in the direction of the auction floor. From the back of the room, I count about 40 bidders, although several more filtered in late. Most attendees wear jeans, sneakers, hoodies, and UGG boots and sit in the rows of chairs in the center of the room, but I take a seat against the back wall. Rudolfo doesn’t waste any time showing me how the auction works and what he thinks my husband is looking for. First, I circle a few items that I think he might like. Then, Rudolfo urges me to keep looking at more. The dollar signs in his eyes motivate him to stay close by my side.
On either side of the room are about 25 Christie’s staff members taking bids from clients in Singapore, Germany, and Florida over the phone. There’s tension in the air. It’s both nerve-wracking and exciting. I can see why my husband is so obsessed with collecting now. One man wearing a backward baseball cap bids $88,000 for a ruby and diamond jewels set that ends up selling to another bidder for $112,500. People raise their paddles so quickly and subtly that I often don’t even spot them.
TO BE CONTINUED …
Click HERE for Pink Champagne Christmas Story Part 1
Click HERE for Pink Champagne Christmas Story Part 2
Click HEREfor Pink Champagne Christmas Story Part 3
Click HERE for Pink Champagne Christmas Story Part 4
Although they always say the holidays are always full of surprises, nothing prepares me for what I see across the room after our waiter takes our order.
The sound of a man’s laugh is so familiar it catches my attention. I glance around, trying to locate the laughter as waiters glide by with trays filled with mouthwatering delectables. Then, a shock hits my heart and explodes. I can’t stop myself from staring. Across the room, the man laughing is my husband, Jasper. And he is not alone. His arm is casually draped around the back of a curvaceous woman. She turns and kisses him on the lips a mere twenty feet away from our family. As if on cue, a strolling photographer stops at their table to capture their embrace. I watch as they inch closer together and smile brightly for the camera. The flashbulb goes off, and the image uploads in my mind, possibly forever. A wave of nausea sweeps over me.
At first glance, the woman isn’t his type. For one thing, she wears her hair natural. Her clothes are loud and funky, not muted or sophisticated. Even her hot pink nails are too long and too bright a hue to appeal to Jasper’s taste. Or so I would think. Of course, this woman looks lovely to everyone else in the restaurant. But no one else has lived under the scrutiny of Jasper’s eye for the past decade except for me.
I wonder if she is Jasper’s new Eliza Doolittle? He made me over, maybe he’s thinking about doing the same with her?
My mother’s first impression of Jasper wasn’t kind. She raised me to be a strong independent woman. She could tell that Jasper’s strong will would one day undermine mine if I let him. Deep down, my mother didn’t want my life to be like hers. My father made the rules for the rest of the household to follow. She wanted my life to be different.
My mother’s warnings about Jasper angered me. I didn’t listen to her because she didn’t make sense to me. When Jasper and I first started dating, I was very opinionated and vocal about it. I didn’t waiver or step down when he challenged me. He said he had never met a woman like me before. Jasper told me more than once that he actually admired my strong will and opinions. But my pregnancy changed me. For whatever reason, I let my gestational diabetes make me feel like a failure as a woman, wife, and mother!
Looking across at this woman with my husband, I see why I am sitting here. All my insecurities that came from mismanaging my blood sugars undermined my overall confidence. It’s just dawning on me what I allowed to happen. I grab hold of the edge of the table in an attempt to settle myself. But I can’t stop myself from staring.
It’s easy to blame the lingering doubts about my gestational diabetes for what’s happening in front of me. However, Jasper’s laser beam focus on his career is also a factor. The same drive and determination that initially attracted me to him now make my blood run cold. Memories of my own father’s absence in my childhood are repeated. I don’t want my children to experience my childhood. Their father needs to be a presence in their life. He needs to be a loving source of encouragement, not just a breadwinner.
Maybe that’s why I hate his art collection. Every time Jasper buys a painting or collectible, the art is stunning but what it represents is so ugly. Every masterpiece on the walls of our home represents more time spent with clients and less time spent with his family. It breaks off another piece of my heart. The twins are growing by leaps and bounds. I hate what his art collection represents so much that I push him away. So why did it take until this moment for me to realize this?
The crushing realization that my marriage may be over hits me. What have I done? I love my life. Why did it take this woman kissing my husband to see it?
My son, Darren, slams his spoon down and declares the hot chocolate the best in the world. The sound snaps me back to reality. I look at my two children dressed in their Sunday best and burst out laughing. It takes me a good thirty seconds before I can stop myself. Thankfully the restaurant is too busy with waiters and customers for anyone to notice. The twins look at me and smile. I quickly grab some whipped cream off my son’s hot cocoa and dab it on my nose. Suddenly being refined, elegant, and soft-spoken are the last things I want to be. Both kids are laughing. It feels good.
Looking at their two sweet faces with whipped cream mustaches, I see what’s at stake. Suddenly I know what I have to do. And I have until precisely 8 PM to do it. I quickly ask for our check and scramble to get the kids home. The kids don’t notice their father, and Jasper didn’t see us either, which means I still have a chance.
TO BE CONTINUED …
Click HERE for Pink Champagne Christmas Story Part 1
Click HERE for Pink Champagne Christmas Story Part 2
Click HEREfor Pink Champagne Christmas Story Part 3
If my plans make me sound like Tom Cruise in Mission Impossible, I can’t help it. A lot is riding on our Christmas’ date night’ to get my Christmas wish. Because the only gift from Jasper I want for Christmas is a bigger family.
Jasper’s constant complaints about the costs of having too many mouths to feed can’t dissuade me either. But, to be honest, the price of a bigger family isn’t the only thing he’s worried about. He’s also concerned about my health. I had gestational diabetes during my pregnancy with the twins. I can’t lie – It was brutal. There were times during my pregnancies when it was challenging to manage for me. My insulin resistance worsened around 32 – 36 weeks when I thought I had everything under control. I was literally waking and eating the same breakfast every day for weeks when suddenly I experienced crazy blood sugar levels. I kept thinking, “What the heck is going on, and what did you do wrong???” I was so frustrated, upset, and, yes, very emotional. I felt helpless.
During my lowest points, Jasper was my rock. First, he dealt with the brunt of my anger and frustration with so much compassion. Then he even paid out of pocket for a therapist, who wasn’t covered by insurance, to help me process what I was feeling. To say I felt like a failure is an understatement. Every high reading on my blood glucose monitor chipped away at my confidence until I was a bundle of nerves. I didn’t trust myself or my body. Thankfully, Jasper found a specialist who helped me when I hit my lowest point. After that, it was a huge relief to learn that my progesterone hormone levels caused by insulin resistance crank up to another gear instead of negligence. Little by little, day after day, I got my blood sugar levels back on track with insulin therapy. Looking back, my initial hesitations to inject myself with insulin seem ridiculous. My insulin dosage even lowered after the release of my hormones slowed down, and my insulin resistance improved. And all that self-monitoring paid off, too, because today, we have two healthy, beautiful children. I can’t imagine my life without them. This is why I am so determined to have more children. Jasper feels the opposite; he isn’t budging either. If I make a sigh when we see a baby on TV, he recites the opinions of every specialist who has advised me against it. I’m more than likely to have gestational diabetes again, according to statistics. But these specialists don’t understand that I am not a statistic either. I have a better understanding of what’s involved and know my risks this time. I know I can do it.
However, tonight seems like it’s months, not hours away. Nothing has gone according to my plans since we left the house this morning. I’m sure Tom Cruise could rectify the situation quickly without breaking a sweat. Then again, he’s not wearing three-inch heels or wading through the crowded streets of New York City holding hands with two five-year-old children anxious to see Santa Claus. The traffic was bumper to bumper coming into the city. Every store has been jam-packed with people. After waiting for over two hours for Santa Claus, the kids are tired and hungry. My feet are killing me too. All three of us are cranky but teetering towards Grizzly bears grouchy the longer we go without food. I’m in such a rush to feed them and get home that I drag them through the doors of the Windows of the World, New York’s sky-high restaurant. The restaurant’s close proximity to the parking garage was the deciding factor. Usually, I wouldn’t dare take the twins to such an expensive and stuffy restaurant, but their growling stomachs can’t wait. Our twenty-floor glass elevator ride to the top floor is an unexpected thrill for the kids. Thousands of lights twinkle at us when the elevator doors open to a cozy holiday atmosphere where every corner seems decorated in gorgeous evergreen garlands, ribbons, and pinecones. And surrounding windows provide a jaw-dropping three-sixty view of Manhattan. We sit down and order what I can only assume is the city’s most expensive hot chocolates with extra whipped cream and two grilled cheese sandwiches. I’m trying to hold off on food until I go out with Jasper later tonight.
Click HERE to read Pink Champagne Christmas Story PART 1
Click HERE to read Pink Champagne Christmas Story PART 2
On 22 April 1974, this performance by Love Unlimited (also known for singing backing vocals for Barry White) was broadcast by AVRO television as part of TopPop, the Dutch version of Top of the Pops. Glodean James, the singer in the middle, was married to Barry White at that time.
The way Jasper thinks he knows better than me about the finer things in life hasn’t helped our relationship in the romance department at all. I’ll be the first to admit that classical music, decorative arts, and art collections are not my forte. It wasn’t Jasper’s forte either when we first met. Now, he’s one of New York’s most respected “collectors”, and I’m scratching my head trying to remember the last time we were intimate. Go figure.
No one in my family brought art or real estate strictly for investment. I was brought up in a modest working-class family in the suburbs of New Jersey. My family didn’t have four-poster beds with Egyptian cotton sheets, leather wallpaper, a Lalique crystal dining room table, a Picasso hanging in the foyer, or a built-in pool. But I still managed to be happy. I loved my simple childhood.
I used to think it was cute when he schooled me about the names of artists, architects, and operas that are popular with the partners in his law firm. Back then, he’d even consult with me before he’d actually set foot in an auction house. Sometimes, he’d blow my phone up a million times during the day with details about an upcoming auction. But over the past decade, my husband’s love of art has become oppressive. It hurts deep in my heart when he lets an auction take precedence over our family’s needs. Missing a soccer game or two or a recital is understandable, not an entire year’s worth. He’s missing out on the twins’ childhoods and they’re missing out on their father. If you ask me, deep down, I think Jasper is addicted to the adrenaline rush from ‘winning.’ It doesn’t matter what it is – if it’s considered the best of the best, he has to have it. As a result, we have amassed a top-notch African-American art collection worth several million dollars. At the same time, I attend family gatherings or social functions alone.
He certainly hasn’t paid half as much attention to me as the Christie’s catalog for the Cox Collection that he’s been carrying around. I could shave my head tomorrow and I doubt he’d blink an eye. He’s too busy memorizing the province of each piece of art from one of the most significant American collections ever to even notice. When I remind him we don’t have any more wall space available for another so-called ‘masterpiece’, Jasper just laughs and keeps flipping the glossy pages of his dogeared catalog. I miss the days when he used to make me feel like the only woman in the room.
Is there anything wrong with a wife wishing her husband would spend more time looking at her than some silly art auction catalog? If so, I am guilty because I have gone to a lot of trouble to make our dinner at the Plaza Hotel romantic.
First off, I managed to get my stylist, Joe Murray, to squeeze me in for a last-minute appointment at his Hale Organic Salon. Jasper loves it when I wear my hair up, and Joe is the master of the updo.
Secondly, I found the perfect black dress online at Nordstrom. It’s off the shoulder, silky smooth, and the boning inside makes my waist look like it did before I had twins. My stationary bike workouts while our nanny, Carla, watches the kids have paid off. My legs look great in a shorter hemline. Thank you, Peloton! And Jasper’s Christmas gift from last year, a strand of pearls long enough to make Coco Chanel jealous, adds a touch of stated elegance that Jasper appreciates.
Finally, there isn’t a setting that’s more romantic than the Champagne Bar at the Plaza Hotel. The intimacy of only ten tables overlooking Fifth Avenue is only enhanced by the world’s finest champagne, caviar, and wines available upon request. Thankfully Jasper has already agreed to turn off his phone, so there will be nothing to interrupt us. Tonight will be just the two of us like when we first met. Two people in love celebrate the best time of the year. Plus, the Champagne Bar is conveniently part of a hotel. So if things go according to my plans and the magic of the holidays cooperates, Jasper and I may get a room. I already called ahead to confirm they have a few vacancies for tonight, which is why I took the extra step to ask my mom to stay overnight and watch the kids.
Click HERE to read Pink Champagne Christmas Story PART 1
