Whit Stillman made a Woody Allen inspired, talky, independent splash with this surprisingly engaging and clever film. Chris Eigeman is a revelation as a member of the elite upper class young people, or “urban haute bourgeoisie” as one of the pontificating characters labels his group of friends.

Metropolitan takes place over the winter holiday debutante season in Manhattan as these privileged, over educated preppies bounce from luxurious Upper East Side apartment, to luxurious Upper East Side apartment, to the 21 Club and The Plaza, having one inane, intellectual conversation after another.

When an Upper West Sider accidentally falls in with them, hearts are broken, friendships are made and abandoned. This is exactly the kind of movie that, based on the trailer and what I'd read about it, seemed totally unwatchable, and it easily could have gone into obnoxious territory if it weren't for the exceptional screenplay, and the over all care and integrity of everyone involved.

Criterion Collection has made yet another wise decision in the nicely designed release of this exemplary independent forerunner. Stillman went on to make Barcelona and The Last Days of Disco, two other great movies about decadent young things. Neither of his other projects, one a film based on the autobiography of a Chinese girl during Mao's reign and a big screen adaptation of the Chris Buckley novel, Little Green Men, has been completed yet. But I, along with his small selective group of fans, will be thrilled to have him back.

Leaving on a Jet Plane has been a favorite of mine since I was a little girl. It reminds me of playing in the backyard, getting muddy and tired, then recouping on the carpet with this playing on my parents record player. Not that I exactly remember such an afternoon, but this song seems to evoke the general feeling of childhood's fair weather days before school even began.

Funny, then, how little I knew about the song until I was researching for this entry. For starters, I had no idea that this was written by John Denver in an airport. I wonder what poor soul he was leaving behind. I also had no idea that the beloved version of my youth was sung by Peter Paul and Mary, and for that matter, I had no idea that Mary was such a total babe.

Now that fair weather days are back, I'll be putting this on after a long day of being outdoors, getting muddy and tired.

John Phillip Law's career has been long and diverse. From the villain “Kalgan” in my favorite MST3K, Space Mutiny, to the winged blind hunk Pygar in Barbarella, from the seventies incarnation of Sinbad, to the super thief Diabolik in the Bava classic (also featured on MST3K).

Sure, he may not have starred in the most highly respected films of the last few decades, but he looked excellent and gorgeous the whole time. The most exciting thing about Law? Aside from a perfect jaw and shimmering blue eyes? He stars as Robin Stone in the film adaptation of my favorite guilty pleasure novel, Jacqueline Susann's The Love Machine. I must see.

The first thing you'll notice if you look up Ceil Chapman is that she is almost solely remembered and documented by vintage sellers and lovers. There are no photos of the woman, there have been no books or retrospectives (at least that I can find, I do hope someone proves me wrong). She doesn't even have a wikipedia entry for goodness sakes!

The world needs to know what we lovers have known all along, and by “we lovers” I mean Marilyn Monroe, Elizabeth Taylor and me–her biggest fans. Her designs are sought after in the vintage world for their impeccable tailoring, figure flattering shapes, and inventive touches.

Perhaps she is less respected and documented because she took the route of mass production and affordability with many of her clothes. I applaud and adore her for such foresight. Mass production also allowed for so many of her dresses to be around today for us to collect. I have a few of them and they are some of the most exquisite in my wardrobe, all favorites.

You have no idea how many times I have coveted something, planned days or even weeks around trying or doing something and then had fate step in and mess it all up for me. I think it is the world's way of throwing a little spontaneity my way (spontaneity as in the real definition of the word, not as the new dating show code word for slutty), either that or the world is really out to get me.

I tend to dismiss the latter though, because of instances just like this one: I intended all week to finally try a cookie I've been eyeing for months, it's always there, taunting me at Whole Foods, and today was the day I was going to have it… Or not. They were sold out.

But it prompted me to seek out an alternative because once you have it on the brain that you are eating a dessert at lunch, a dessert must be found. And I found this German import made of raspberry yogurt filling (it tastes like the innards of the pink and, in my opinion, most prized chocolates in a valentine's box) covered in a thin layer of chocolate. At 120 calories it was one of the least bad for you dessert options and doesn't taste it. Really excellent.

Get there early (before 1pm) and you shouldn't have to wait. The lake is larger than it first seems and the 12 dollar hour will go by quickly as you take in the sun, watch the ducks, catch glimpses of an elusive cormorant, gaze at the beautiful architecture while dreaming of the apartments inside, and marvel at the turtles.

One of those Manhattan experiences that a lot of locals just never get around to doing but really should. It's such a pleasant way to start a day of museum visiting. The boats can accommodate up to four people and there are also one person kayaks available. Central Park is one of the most glorious things about the city and I don't take advantage as much as I should. I'm glad I took the time to experience it in this way.

Jim and I headed for the Jersey Shore after very little research and with little to go on. Not my style, I know, but the elation being able to snag a seat at Egg on Father's Day made me a bit reckless. Friend Mike had told me of a few places to try in Belmar: Klein's and Strollos Italian Ice. Tummies became too full to try the ice cream ourselves (though Mike swears it's delicious) but Klein's is a nice environment. Though, to be completely candid, they served the unthinkable: sub par oysters! So just stay clear of the oysters and you'll be fine.

After lunch we missed the Belmar boardwalk as we drove through town and ended up turned around and headed North again. No problem, I said, as a Springsteen fan, we'll just go to Asbury Park. Well, Asbury Park is… odd and decrepit, but so worth a drive-by at least to see the really old school boardwalk buildings that are crumbling. Not so much worth the visit? The sad urban blight and the weird dude that popped up behind our car begging for money and a ride to New York City. Not that we're entirely sheltered and heartless (maybe we are), we decided to head back to Belmar instead of dealing with Mr Crazy and found the beach and boardwalk on our second try.

The beach requires badges which cost $7.00 for one time use and $50.00 for a season. I would say it's not a bad deal. The beach was clean and well maintained offering volley ball, surfing, para-sailing, and super soft sand. Since we weren't wearing bathing suits, we paid nothing to stroll the boardwalk and people watch.

And let me tell you, we both noticed how totally in shape these people were. It was kind of remarkable compared to other local beaches. It's only about a two hour drive out of the city.

Agatha Christie's beloved old lady sleuth Miss Marple (so beloved by my family, in fact, that our tortie Persian was named after her) gets the royal treatment in these new Masterpiece Theater adaptations.

The acting is superb with Geraldine McEwan as Jane Marple, radiating wit, intelligence, and oodles of charm. Guest stars are equally impressive, including Jane Seymour, Joanna Lumley, Derek Jacobi, and Ian Richardson. These books are the cream of the “cozy” crop, the sort of mysteries that have very little violence, usually take place in the English country side and whatever mystery that unfolds is solved and order is restored by our hero detective in the end.

They are the types of mysteries that the other half of all older women go through like water, leaving dog-eared paperback in their wake. In no way, however, does their quaintness detract from the sheer joy you'll get out of these new adaptations.

I am not usually a lover of lamb, but Jim is, so this was a compromise. And compromises in the kitchen can be fruitful. We both loved this recipe.