Nicaraguan Fresca

My husband went to Nicaragua last month and augmented his usual cache of souvenirs (the hotel toiletry samples) with some elusive Nicaraguan Fresca. For those who didn't read my Memorial Day weekend post about Fresca, I'm obsessed. Please read it. Also, leave a comment.

Anyway, the Nicaraguan Fresca has sugar in it, and when I tasted it, it reminded me a bit of this Alka Seltzer with Lemon that I used to take when I had the flu. It didn't have the pleasing artificial bite of the American version. I quite like the can design though.

P.S. Sorry I haven't posted lately. I've been so depressed that no one from Fresca's marketing department has contacted me about sponsoring Fallen Princess. It's been hard to focus, frankly. Also, the room where my computer is has been at a steady temperature of 150 degrees.

Montclair Mom Proves to be Barrel of Laughs at Seaside Heights Water Park

Enough said.

Road Rage

Last Wednesday, at 9:15 am, I was waiting at a stop sign for my chance to turn right after dropping my daughter off at field hockey camp. Granted, I'm a cautious driver, but there was a fair amount of traffic as many other parents had also just dropped their daughters off.

Behind me, a driver honked very aggressively. In the sounding of her horn, she channeled all the rage of the universe. I waved her to go around me. Another honk, more enraged, if possible.

I turned off the car, and got out. From the relative safety of the curb, I observed a woman with silky blonde hair in a shiny, obnoxiously large car. She was wearing workout clothes. Clearly, she was late for kickboxing or spinning, or some other extremely important gym activity. Her face was twisted with fury.

I held up one finger. I wanted to say, "Your actions affect others. It is not all about you and the calories you must burn." But she teared off, leaning on the horn one more time for good measure.

I got back in the car, shaking, and was frazzled for the rest of the day.

I Hate Right on Red

Right on red is optional. So quit honking at me.

The Mother-Daughter Creators of Huge on What to Avoid When Doing a ‘Fat Camp’ Show

Here's another interview I did about Huge, on New York Magazine's website.
Okay bye.

Hey, "My So Called Life" Fans: Watch "Huge" Tonight

The ABC Family drama Huge, which is about teens at a weight loss camp named Camp Victory, is shocking for the number of genuinely plus-sized actors in the cast. The series is written by Winnie Holzman, creator of the legendary teen drama My So-Called Life, and writer of the book for Wicked, as well as her 24-year-old daughter, Savannah Dooley. It is based on a book from Alloy Entertainment, the behemoth that created Gossip Girl, Vampire Diaries and Pretty Little Liars.

This subject matter is rarely properly dealt with on tv. So far the show seems to not be coming down hard on fat camps, nor arguing for them, but rather using the camp as a way to explore what it's like to be an overweight teenager. The tone is pretty serious. The main character, Willamina, a sarcastic girl who has been sent to the camp against her wishes, is played by Nikki Blonksy, best known for her role as the maniacally enthusiastic Tracy Turnblad in Hairspray.

Why did you want to do “Huge”?

It was a scripted show about plus sized people. And people forget that most of America is over a size 12-14. What the media feeds the kids is that you have to be a size 2 in order to be an actress or a singer, or whatever. And that’s not the case. You take someone like me, who is definitely not a size 2 or a 4, and I am living the dream. So I was so pleased to hear that they had the courage to make a show like this, with a full plus-sized cast, and we are just having the time of our life. What I’m getting so excited about is that people will be able to see that plus-sized people are not just there for the joke or the laugh. We have the same issues that skinny people have. We have body issues. We have eating disorders. We deal with everything in this show that thin people deal with. Just because we’re plus-sized doesn’t mean we don’t deal with it.

Did you have a prior opinion about weight loss camps before you did this show?

My opinion is if the kids themselves say they want to go, I think they are perfectly fine. If the parents are pushing camp, like in my character's circumstance, then it is not ok- that’s sending a message to the child that you’re not good enough for us, and no child should ever have to go through that.

Will is so different from the role you’re most known for, Tracey Turnblad in Hairspray. How did you feel about playing a darker, more sarcastic character?

I loved Tracy—don’t get me wrong—but Will is so much fun to play. I didn’t want anyone else to play her. I kept telling my agent, I have to play this girl. If anyone is going to play this sarcastic girl and still be likable, I have to. It’s a different side of me.

Were you nervous about doing the striptease that Will does in the first episode?

That was actually Day One, first shot, and I just went for it, There were over 200 people there, watching it. I just said, you know what Nikki, here’s your time, let it all hang out. I just had so much fun. My mom was there, and she gave me thumbs up, and it was a go. I just did the striptease like I was brushing my teeth. It was no big deal.

Was that your first strip tease?

Yes.

But maybe not your last.

Maybe not. Never say never.

My father died 20 years ago today.

I still miss him.

Colon cancer killed him at 58. When they first found the tumor in his colon, he had surgery to remove it. During the operation I sat in the waiting room at New Rochelle Hospital with my mother. All I remember is that the surgeon came out when he was finished, and said: "It was very big. The size of a grapefruit. But I think I got it all."

The tumor had grown so large because my father didn't get himself checked for years. He had misdiagnosed the pain in his back. I remember him always having back problems. When I was 13 he was in traction, and to pass the time, he hand-hooked rugs. I still have a lovely floral rug that he made for me in my guest room. Sometimes he said his back problem was caused by an injury he got playing Gaelic football; other times, as I recall, it seemed to be related to a fall from a telephone pole. My father used to repair telephone wires for a living.

Finally they found the source of this particular pain, and so he had the surgery, and chemo, which seemed to cure him for a while, until it didn't.

He died right after Father's Day. I don't know why, but I bought him a large mahogany wall clock that year. He was so frail, and when he opened it, he sobbed a heart breaking sob. Why had I bought him such a gift?

Very near the end, he was thin as a rail, and he wanted a cigarette. My brother Robert could not deny him. I watched him smoking it, and he seemed a corpse already, but I knew that Robert had done the right thing.

I spent the night before he died at my parents' house, and I was able to tell him that I loved him, and he heard me. My family of origin is not big on "I Love You." It is so rarely spoken amongst us that I can barely choke it out, and if I do say it, it seems like some sort of breach of etiquette. People avert their eyes, then make jokes. We don't say it, but we know it.

The afternoon of June 23, 1990, it was sunny and beautiful, and my brother took a few of us, me and some cousins, out in the little motor boat that my father had recently insisted on buying for him. (For me, he had thoughtfully purchased an air conditioner for my stifling New York apartment.) The sun glittered on the water. We were quietly waiting.

When we returned a few hours later, my mother and my parents' closest friends sat around the dining room table. I glanced their way as I went directly to my father's bedside.

"Chris..." It was Mr. Maye, my father's lifelong best friend. He didn't need to say anything else.

My father's hands were folded on his chest.