Mad Men

I came to Mad Men last season and couldn't wait for it to begin again. The thing about the show is, I feel like an in-the-know insider. How could this be?

We once lived in a neighborhood with lots of those mad men, hard drinkers and smokers all, and I served on various committees with them and met them through committees their wives served on. That sort of thing. To a man they had a cool, ironic sense of humor that I loved.

The pretty blonde wife (Betty Draper) should be on a committee or two for versimiltude. Should I write the producer?

Today, watching last week's program before tonight because the Olympics is playing hell with my free time, viewing habits, sleep--god I'll be glad for the closing ceremonies--oops, long sentence. Today I realized who the real life model for Don is, and wild horses couldn't drag it from me.

From Those Wonderful Folks Who Brought You Pearl Harbor, a great book by Jerry della femina (hope this is spelled right) with big insights into the advertising agency culture, told some tales out of school and I knew who he was talking about, and it's the same person that Don is modeled after. Has to be. It is so fun to be in on something.

I love the furniture and lamps and paintings, even the clothes in the show. They've done it right, and I also like that Peggy Olsen is no raving beauty and I guess we're all wondering what's going to happen with the new young priest.

Of course, it's a soap opera, but then so is life. Love the drinking and smoking, even at the office drinking, ah those were the days, my friend.

Don is in his way a lot like Tony Soprano, don't you think? It's the same show built around different characters. We always write the same book over and over again.

These Sunday morning insights are creating a huge desire for a drink, which would actually be another cup of coffee. Ha. Ha. Fooled you.

Grapeshot

We aren't in Norton anymore

S.O. and I lived in Wellesley for many years, up the hill from Little Italy in Precinct B, in a neighborhood called, "College Heights." The neighborhood was friendly and although the houses were nice enough, it was still the kind of neighborhood where you could mow you own lawn. If you get my drift. . .there are plenty of neighborhoods in this country where you would not dare mow your own lawn. Too long to explain, so think about it.

We drove through the area today after a few months without a drive-by, so to speak, and found 4 tear-downs. The two on Pleasant Street, a street of modest homes, were all right, not too ungainly and set back from the street. Looked like they belonged there.

The two others were godawful McMansions, right up to the lot lines, like ugly on an ape. I am sure glad I don't live across the street from those monstrosities.

In Wellesley, we always shopped at Roche Brothers, and as Proust would be the first to tell you, habit is a powerful thing, and after we moved we diddled around in Shaw's and Stop and Shop and found neither to our liking, so we drove the extra miles to Roche Brothers in Norton. The first time there, we asked for something not in stock, and mentioned (bad mistake) that we used to shop at the Wellesley Roche Bros. After a couple of times of this faux pas, we sucked it up and didn't ask anymore. S.O. mentioned that the female shoppers in the store were not the trophy wives one frequently saw in Wellesley. Well, duh!

Today, before the onslaught of house guests who must be fed, including one vegetarian, we had an errand to run in Wellesley and decided to do the grocery shopping at our old stomping grounds. The women were really noticable. Young and skinny and totally unlike the Norton matrons. I got string cheese, frozen pizza dough and $167.00 worth of groceries (ouch), and found some really nice slab bacon at the deli counter.

I noticed an attractive elderly woman in a Gloria Vanderbuilt wraparound dress and spike heels shopping. Pony skin purse that probably cost a grand. Now even in Wellesley, nobody wears spike heels to the grocery store, and so I took a second look. Cripes, it wasn't an elderly woman at all, it was the most glamourous woman from the workout club. Eight or nine years ago, when I first saw her, she was beautiful: slim, trim, but with a few modest curves, you know, breasts, butt, calves. She could pump iron like nobody's business. Drove a fancy car and once I noticed dry cleaner bags with Chanel clothes hanging in the back seat. A couple years later, she had dieted herself down to no breasts and no butt, and didn't look nearly so cute. Now, she is so stringy looking that I thought she was elderly. I mean, who else is stringy but old women? This is really sad. I was shocked.

It is a fact that is never mentioned that big time weight loss after 50 usually results in big time bags and wrinkles on the face and elsewhere. Sometimes a few extra pounds (I mean a few), are not a bad thing in a 50+ woman.

Actually this time of year, grocery shopping in Wellesley is usually a leisurely pursuit, since everyone is on the Cape, the Island, their yacht or up in Maine. Where-ever-the-hell.

I hope you don't live in a McMansion like Tony Soprano. Actually, his wasn't as big as the new ones in Wellesley, and at least he had two kids and some relatives. Some of the McMansions are inhabited by a childless couple or one couple and a baby. Well, I guess the inhabitants just have to each have an office and a media room and an exercise room and a whatever. Probably no one cooks in the big fancy Viking kitchen. At least Carmela cooked.

Grapeshot is feeling a little bah-humbug today. A trip to see how the other "half" lives will do that.

Onward, but god help us, not upward, at least not upwardly mobile.